


Heart of a Hunter - Act IV

by MuchAmused



Series: Heart of a Hunter Saga [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Act IV, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Doctor!Reader, F/M, HOAH, Heart of a Hunter, Hurt/Comfort, In it for the long haul, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Much Amused About Nothing, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Spn whump, Worried!Dean, hurt!reader, supernatural series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2019-10-17 18:59:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 53,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17566157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuchAmused/pseuds/MuchAmused
Summary: Signing up to hunt with the Winchesters is not something you took lightly. After working hard to hone your skills, you’ve proven yourself on hunts time and time again. Dean has even come to see you as a comrade in arms, as well as his sweetheart. He and Sam have absolute faith in your hunting abilities. But even seasoned hunters make mistakes, and this one could cost you everything.





	1. Chapter 1

 

A few seconds - one brief moment - of letting your guard down…. That was all it took before your vision funneled out and the world went black.

You knew better…. God, you knew better.

You’d been hunting for almost a year now with the Winchesters, but something about the monotony of grocery shopping had given you a false sense of security that was going to cost you.

You were glancing at the cuts of meat in the butcher section of the grocery store when you spotted the bourbon burger on display. You pulled your phone out of your pocket and snapped a picture of it, sending it to Dean in a text with a caption.

 

 

 

> _They have your favorite. I’m thinking dinner tonight?_

You smiled at the butcher as he approached the display and you politely asked for two pounds of the specialty burger.

He wrapped it up for you and handed it over just as your phone buzzed. You thanked him and set it in your shopping basket, glancing at your screen to see Dean’s response.

 

 

 

> _I’m drooling just thinking about it. Have I told you you’re awesome?_

You grinned and typed back.

 

 

 

> _A girl never gets tired of hearing it._

You spent another twenty minutes shopping for the rest of the groceries on your list. You’d only gotten back to the bunker last night with Sam and Dean after being gone for almost two weeks on a case involving a particularly smart shapeshifter. The three of you had eaten a frozen pizza for dinner last night, but all of the fresh food in the fridge had gone bad in your absence, so you’d offered to go on a grocery run today.

You paid for the groceries at the checkout, your mind wandering a bit about whether or not you should stop off while you were in town to give the truck a quick wash as you pushed your shopping basket, full to the brim, out through the parking lot.

You noticed as you approached your truck that a car had parked a little too close for comfort. The driver was getting out of the car and you tried not to stare as she walked past, mildly fascinated by the almost solid coverage of her otherwise pale skin by intricate tattoos. You dropped the tailgate of your truck and pushed the basket into a good position to begin unloading groceries when you heard footsteps nearby, causing you to shoot a glance over your shoulder, only to find the tattooed woman directly behind you.

You spun, startled, just as she reached for your arm, and the world quickly, and unapologetically, went black.

 

***********

 

Dean sat his phone on the table in front of him with a little huff, causing Sam to look up from his laptop out of curiosity.

“What’s wrong?”

Dean shrugged. “She’s not answering her phone.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, to which Dean held up his hands defensively. “She’s been gone a couple of hours, all right? It’s - it’s weird that she’s not answering.”

“She’s running errands. She’s probably just busy.” Sam replied. “She might need a break from you every once in a while,” Sam added in a teasing tone.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, maybe.”

Twenty minutes passed before he tried calling again, and when your phone went to voicemail he left a message this time.

  
“Hey, it’s me. Just sort of thought you’d be back by now. I, uh, I’m not trying to be overbearing. Hell, sweetheart, I’m starting to worry. Call me.”

“Maybe her phone died,” Sam finally offered in an effort to get Dean to relax. Dean merely grunted in response. “Look, she can handle herself.”

“I didn’t say she couldn’t.”

“Come on, man. You’re overreacting. And by the way, when she gets back I’m going to clear out of here for a few hours and give you two some alone time to, you know, unwind. You seem like you need it.”

Dean gave Sam his best bitch face. Sam ignored it, watching Dean from the corner of his eye as he walked back and forth from one end of the war room to the other.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Dude, you’re literally pacing.”

“She was buying burger for dinner,” Dean stated matter-of-factly, as if that explained his behavior.

Sam blinked at him. “And?”

“And she wouldn’t be gone this long after buying burger to cook tonight. It’s not frozen, and she didn’t take a cooler. That means she was planning on heading home not long after she texted me,” he explained.

Dean couldn’t explain to Sam why he was so worried. It was just this feeling deep down in his gut that something was wrong. And Dean Winchester had learned to listen to that gut instinct years ago. It rarely failed him.

So while Sam might believe he was being paranoid, Dean just couldn’t silence the nagging feeling that you were in trouble.

So he grabbed the car keys to the Impala and his jacket.

Sam held back an exasperated sigh and got to his feet instead. “Hold up. I’ll come with you.”

Dean didn’t respond as the two of them made their way to the garage, but he was grateful. Something was definitely wrong, and having his brother as backup helped in ways he couldn’t express.

“Where did she go for groceries?” Sam asked as they got in the car.

“Osborne,” Dean answered, adding, “Only place to get bourbon burger.”


	2. Chapter 2

_You gazed up at the front porch of your childhood home as Dean cut the Impala’s engine and let out a heavy sigh._

_“It’s going to be fine,” you assured him._

_“Yeah, yeah.” Dean waved a dismissive hand. You worried over your bottom lip, watching him. He felt your gaze and plastered a smile on his face for you. “It will be fine,” he agreed. “I'm just sorry things have to be this way. You know, with all the secrets. You know if you ever feel like we should just tell your family the truth, I’ll support you in that. I’ve got a hidden arsenal in the trunk of the car here that will support all the crazy-ass stories.”_

_You smiled at him. “Letting my family believe you do a lot of undercover work is the only way to keep them safe,” you said, repeating the mantra you constantly told yourself whenever you were tempted to tell them the real details of your life with Dean. “And, it's not far from the truth.”_

_“Still,” Dean said, gripping your hand. “That doesn't make it any easier. I know it doesn't. Hell, I know I struggle. I can't imagine what it feels like for you.”_

_“Mom loves you,” you replied, giving the only solace you had to offer him._

_“Yeah, well, it's a good thing because your dad barely tolerates me and your brother hates me.”_

_“No one hates you.”_

_Dean raised an eyebrow at you, then crossed his eyes in an attempt to lighten the situation. You grinned and said, “Don't take it personal. They just love me. And I love you. Nothing else matters much.”_

_“Hey, not saying I blame them. If I had a daughter or a sister in your situation, and her husband's job made things just hard enough and weird enough that we couldn't visit her, and we couldn't ask questions, at least not ones with satisfying answers, hell, I’d probably hate me too. You’re a badass doctor and you shouldn’t have to lie to your family about the life you’ve built, but here we are.”_

_You gave him a sympathetic smile and said, “Thank you for this.”_

_“No need. I'm happy to be here with you. Just promise you'll give me a proper hunter's funeral if your brother murders me in my sleep tonight.”_

_You smacked his arm, grinning. “I think it would be his funeral I'd be planning if he tried.” You took a deep breath and gazed up at the house again. “Well, here goes something,” you told him as you opened the car door and climbed out._

_Dean got out of the car and came around to your side to stand by you. “Hey,” he said softly, touching your cheek. “Enjoy this. We don't get you here to see them often enough. Let's make the most of it while we're here.”_

_You nodded. “You're right.” He kissed your forehead and took your hand, leading the way up the front walk._

_You opened the front door and called out, “Mom? Dad? We're here.”_

_“Honey!” Mom said as she rounded the corner from the kitchen, taking your face in her hands and smiling with watery eyes. You hugged her tightly, realizing just how much you'd missed a good Mom hug._

_Dad was right behind her, embracing you warmly. “Glad you made it here safely,” he said. “How long is that drive anyway?” Dad pulled back, holding you at arm's length to inspect you._

_You smiled at him, knowing where he was going with that statement. “Just long enough to enjoy.”_

_“I'm just saying, between your job at the hospital and Dean's government job, I'd think you could afford plane tickets,” Dad said._

_“You know how much I love to road trip when we visit,” you told him. “Besides, planes are overrated.”_

_“You probably get tired of flying with your work anyway,” Mom said to Dean as he hugged her._

_“I'm not particularly fond of it,” Dean stated. You stifled a laugh, knowing how terrified Dean was of flying. Dean offered a hand to your dad who shook it. “It’s good to see you again, sir.”_

_Your dad smiled and said, “Glad that old car of yours made it safely.”_

_“I take good care of her and she takes good care of us,” Dean told him with a smile._

_“Government hasn't forced a fancy new model on you yet, huh?”_

_Dean shook his head in distaste. “They can try, but I wouldn't dream of it.”_

_“Dean's an old soul,” you added with a smile._

_Dad looked at him appraisingly and nodded. “Well, there's something to be said for that.”_

_“I think we ought to take her for a spin while we're here,” Dean said to him. “Get you behind the wheel. Let the two of you get better acquainted.”_

_Dad considered him for a second before saying, “I think I'd like that.”_

_“Come on in and get comfortable,” Mom said to you both. “I made some lemonade and dinner is in the oven. I know you're probably tired from the trip, but your brother and Lindsey are bringing the kids over to join us for dinner. I hope meatloaf is okay.”_

_“You had me at meat,” Dean said, smiling warmly at Mom. Her face lit up and she took his arm as Dean escorted her to the kitchen to help pour the lemonade._

_“We've missed you,” Dad said as the two of you followed closely behind._

_“You, too,” you told him. “I've missed you both.”_

_“You know, you wouldn't have to miss us quite so much if you asked us to come visit every once in awhile.”_

_You sighed. “Dad, it's-”_

_“I know, I know. It's complicated with both your jobs, and Dean's undercover work. Well, I'm glad you came to see us, anyway.”_

_The rest of the family arrived only a few minutes later, the house instantly filling with the sounds of children’s laughter as your brother and his wife, Lindsey, burst through the front doors with their oldest, Savannah, who was six, and their youngest, Jaxon, who was four._

_“Auntie!” Savannah said as you rushed toward her, scooping her up into your arms._

_“You look more and more grown up every time I see you,” you told her to her great delight._

_“God, don’t encourage her,” your brother teased as he pulled his jacket off and hung it on the hall tree._

_Dean stepped up next to you, opening his arms to Savannah when she saw him there, her bright eyes beaming at the sight of him. “Uncle Dean!”_

_Dean took her from you, freeing you up to be engulfed in a giant bear hug from your brother._

_“Long time no see, sis,” he said to you, holding you back at arm’s length to inspect you._

_“I know,” you told him. “It’s good to see you, too.” And it was. You missed him enough to make your heart hurt. But seeing him so happy was enough to mend it all in the same breath._

_You grinned as Jaxon, whom Lindsey had been wrangling out of his coat, managed to get free and run toward Dean. Dean just barely managed to bend low enough to catch him in his free arm, straightening with a kid on each hip._

_“You guys are killing me here,” Dean said dramatically. “How much do you munchkins eat?”_

_Savannah and Jaxon both laughed at that. You sneekedck in close enough to ruffle Jaxon’s short hair and plant a kiss on his forehead before Dean set them both down and they each took one of his hands, pulling him toward the living room._

_Dean glanced over his shoulder at you as he let himself be towed across the room. There was nothing forced about the joy on his face in that moment._

_You hugged Lindsey in greeting, laughing with her about how big the kids were getting. Neither of you hesitated when Mom suggested it might be time for a glass of wine while dinner finished up in the oven. You followed her to the kitchen and retrieved three glasses while Lindsey took a seat at the snack bar._

_Mom peeked in the oven and made an adjustment to the timer before she leaned against the counter top. “When are you and Dean going to give me grandbabies?” she asked as she poured herself a glass of wine._

_You tip a sip from your own glass, reminding yourself that you’d known she’d eventually broach the subject of having kids. You had your rehearsed answer prepared. “Oh mom, you know how busy we both are.”_

_Mom frowned. “Busy not getting busy … is that what you're telling me? Goodness honey, Dean's too handsome not to enjoy.”_

_“God Mom, no. That's not what I ... just … can we not have this conversation?”_

_Lindsey laughed out loud, throwing you an apologetic smile when you turned your gaze on her._

_Mom smiled and gave a little shrug. “I'm just saying. After you two got married, I hoped you might take that next step at some point. The pair of you would make beautiful babies.”_

_You threw a wistful glance in Dean’s direction. He was on his hands and knees in the living room, little Savannah clinging tightly to his neck from her position on his back, squealing in delight as he pretended to be a rodeo bull trying to offset her. Jaxon giggled and tried to play bullfighter as Dean turned on his knees while still trying to prevent Savannah from getting hurt._

_“You’ve always been so good at taking care of people. You'd be a wonderful mother,” Mom said softly, smiling as she followed your gaze. “And he'd be a great father. I mean, just look at him with the kids.”_

_“He would, wouldn't he?” you agreed, smiling as her arm came around your waist to squeeze lightly._

_Dean reached behind his head just then and gripped Savannah gently with both hands. He lifted her over his head and set her down in front of him, tickling her sides when her feet touched the carpet and causing her to crumple in a fit of laughter._

_“She's right,” Lindsey said as she set her glass of wine on the countertop. “You and Dean would make gorgeous babies.”_

_“Maybe one day,” you told them both, knowing deep down that having kids would probably never be in the cards for you and Dean._

_After dinner Dean insisted he be the one to help Mom clear off the table and load the dishwasher. Mom was all too happy to have his help, and you and Lindsey watched from the table as he cranked up the charm a notch and set to getting the job done._

_“You would have to be a doctor to land a man like that,” Lindsey teased with a nod in Dean’s direction. “He’s too good to be true.”_

_You laughed softly and looked at her. “I’m sorry we’re not around more often. We don’t like it anymore than anyone else does.”_

_She sensed the shift in your tone and sat up a little to look you in the eyes. “Hey, don’t let your dad and your brother get to you. They worry about you, yes. But they know you’re a grown woman and that you can handle things. They also know Dean is a good man. We’re lucky to have him as a part of this family. They’re both proud of you, even if they don’t say it enough.”_

_You smiled at her. I’m glad my brother found you. Not sure he deserves you.” It was Lindsey’s turn to laugh then, but it was short-lived as both your heads turned in the direction of the hallway when you heard the sound of Savannah crying as she approached._

_She was limping slightly, dragging Rusty the bear behind her with a hand, tears staining her cheeks, prompting both you and Lindsey to say in unison, “What’s wrong, sweetie?”_

_Savannah wiped at her face with a hand and said, “I fell and scraped my knee.”_

_“Darn it,” Lindsey said softly to her, taking her onto her lap before sliding up the leg of her pants to get a better look. Savannah’s lower lip trembled and she hiccuped as she cried._

_“That’s no fun,” you told her as you eyed the scrape just over her knee that had gone just deep enough to bring beads of blood to surface of the wound._

_She shook her head no and began crying harder as she got her first good look at the scrape._

_“Hey,” you prompted her, reaching up to wipe away a tear from her cheek. “It’s a good thing you have an auntie who can fix you right up.”_

_“That’s true,” Lindsey agreed._

_You opened up your arms to her, saying, “Should we go see where Grandma keeps the Band-aids?”_

_Lindsey wiped at Savannah's nose with her sleeve, Savannah's breath hitching as she tried to be brave and leaned into your embrace. Lindsey mouthed a silent, ‘Thank you’ as you carried Savannah from the room. You snuggled her close to you, grateful that she trusted you enough to let you care for her. Her stuffed bear bumped your shoulder and your back as you walked, dangling from Savannah’s hands where she had a death grip on the bear’s arm._

_Mom retrieved her little first-aid kit and set it out on the coffee table in the den for you, bending to kiss Savannah’s forehead before she left you to tend to her._

_“What’s all the commotion?” Dean asked as he walked into the room, seeing you on your knees in front of Savannah who was seated against the armrest of the couch with her legs out in front of her._

_“We had a little fall,” you answered him as you pulled Savannah’s pant leg a little further up above her knee. A fresh wave of tears began pouring down Savannah’s cheeks, as if the mere mention of the incident made the pain worse. “It’s okay honey. It won’t hurt for long.”_

_“Did you leave a big hole in the floor?” Dean teased as he knelt down next to you to inspect Savannah’s knee himself._

_Savannah smiled at him through her tears, in spite of herself. “No.”_

_“Well, that’s a relief,” Dean added. “I’m sure Grandpa will be happy to hear it.”_

_Savannah hugged her bear closer to her, and that’s when she choked out, “Rusty fell, too.”_

_“Is this little guy Rusty?” Dean asked, patting the teddy bear’s head fondly. Savannah nodded and Dean chewed his bottom lip contemplatively. “You know, kiddo,” Dean said to Savannah. “Your aunt is a people doctor, but I have medical training in teddy bear problems. I might be able to help out with Rusty.”_

_“Really?” Savannah asked, eyes wide. Her little lip was still quivering as she looked up to you for confirmation._

_“True story,” you said as you reached for the small can of Dermoplast and gestured to Dean with a nod. “He knows his stuff.”_

_“Mind if I take a look at him?” Dean asked her, earning a sniffle and a nod in response. “Hey there, Rusty,” Dean said as he gently took the bear from her and laid him out across his lap. “Savannah says you took a pretty good fall, so I'm going to check you over real quick. Make sure nothing’s broken.”_

_“He hurt his foot,” Savannah told Dean, wiping a tear from her cheek. She only flinched a little when you gave the scrape a quick spray._

__

_“Did he now?” Dean asked quickly, trying to keep her attention as he lifted Rusty’s feet, one after the other, to inspect them._

_You bit back a smile as you placed a bandage on Savannah's knee. “How's that, sweetie?” you asked. “Better?”_

_She nodded for you, glancing at her knee. “Better.” She’d all but stopped crying at that point, her breath hitching only occasionally._

_“Ah, I see the problem,” Dean announced, angling the bear’s foot so you could see where the material had torn near one of the seams. “Well, Rusty,” he began. “This is going to need stitches, but the good news is you'll be just fine.”_

_“Stitches?” Savannah asked, eyeing Dean. “Will it hurt him?”_

_“Nah,” Dean said. “I'm awesome at stitches. Just ask your aunt.”_

_“He’s right. He's had lots of practice. I'll see if Grandma has a, um, suture kit,” you told Savannah, moving to stand up._

_“But we need one for teddy bears,” Savannah insisted, her tone concerned. “Not a people one. Grandma won't have the right kind.” She looked to Dean to back her up._

_“Good thing I always have one with me in the car,” he told her with a wink. Dean gently placed Rusty on the couch and told him to stay like a good bear before he headed outside in search of the teddy bear med kit._

_He returned a few minutes later with the tool box med kit he and Sam always kept in the trunk of the car. He set the kit down on the floor in front of Savannah and the bear and opened it up, throwing a smile your way as you sat back next to your niece and watched in amusement. He moved the stethoscope out of the way, setting it on the couch as he continued to dig around._

_“What's that for?” Savannah asked._

_“Hmm?” Dean glanced up to see her pointing at the stethoscope. “Oh, that's to check his heartbeat.”_

_“Can I try?”_

_“Sure you can,” Dean told her, handing it to her before he went back to rummaging and produced a pack of nylon suture thread and needle._

_“Here, like this,” you said as you helped Savannah fit the stethoscope earpieces in her ears._

__

_You placed the bell in her hand and she moved it to the bears middle, holding it in place and listening. “I don't hear anything,” she said in concern after a moment._

_“No?” Dean frowned, and you wondered exactly how he was going to get out of this one. “Hmm….”_

_“Maybe it's broke,” Savannah thought out loud, inspecting the stethoscope bell closely._

_“Maybe. You'd better try it out on me,” Dean offered, earning a nod from her. He took the bell from her hand and held it against his own chest. “How's that?”_

_Savannah's eyes grew wide with excitement and she nodded. “I can hear it. I hear your heart… It's really loud.”_

_“Sounds good though?” Dean asked her._

_She nodded. “Sounds good.”_

_Dean lowered the bell from his chest, and eyed Rusty thoughtfully, saying, “You know, with this breed of bear it can be kind of tricky….” He held out his hand to Savannah for the stethoscope. “May I?”_

_She nodded and handed it over to him. You put an arm around Savannah and hugged her, smiling back when she grinned up at you as you both watched Dean put the stethoscope on._

_“Sometimes it’s a little easier to hear from the back….” Dean went through the motions of moving the bell around a bit on the teddy bear’s back. “Aha. There it is,” he said, face growing serious as he pretended to listen intently. “His heartbeat is strong and steady,” he announced, earning another grin from Savannah._

_Dean hung the stethoscope around his neck and pulled on blue nitrile gloves, snapping them dramatically for effect. He opened the little sealed package containing the needle driver and suture needle with the thread attached._

_“Time to be brave, Rusty,” Dean told the bear. Savannah gripped the bear’s arm with her hand in a gesture of support. And just like that Dean began stitching up the tear in the fur-lined fabric, effectively winning over your niece's heart._

_Ten minutes and six stitches later he topped it off with a bandage, and Savannah was throwing her arms around Dean's neck and kissing his cheek._

_“Thank you, Uncle Dean!” she told him._

_“It was my pleasure, sweetie,” Dean said. “Make sure Rusty takes it easy tonight. That band-aid can come off tomorrow if he's feeling better, but those stitches should hold just fine.”_

_She nodded enthusiastically. “Okay.”_

_She hugged you next, and you kissed the top of her head, mouthing a thank you to Dean over her shoulder. He winked at you as Savannah skipped out of the room, calling to her daddy to come see how Uncle Dean had fixed up Rusty, having forgotten all about her skinned up knee._

_You hugged him and said, “Nice save, Dr. Winchester.”_

_“Hey, any excuse to use my teddy bear doctoring skills,” he said as he pulled the gloves off._

_You followed him into the kitchen where he tossed the gloves and the suture needle in the trash. You didn't miss the way your brother was eyeing Dean with something like appreciation as he listened to his daughter go on and on about how Uncle Dean had saved Rusty the bear’s foot._

_“Well, well, sounds like you're hired,” Mom said to Dean._

_“Definitely hired,” Lindsey agreed. “She won't go anywhere without that bear. You just saved us from a whole lot of tears. My sewing skills are up to par, but I'm no trained teddy bear doctor.”_

_Dean adjusted his shirt sleeves and pulled the stethoscope from around his neck, saying, “Yeah, well, they don't pay me the big bucks for nothing.”_

_Lindsey laughed and ushered Savannah and Jaxon into the den where Dad was putting on a movie so the kids could wind down._

_“Going to run the med kit back out to the car, Dean told you quietly. “Be right back.”_

_The rest of the evening passed quickly, and before you knew it you were saying goodbye to your brother and Lindsey and watching as they each carried a sleeping child to their SUV. You and Mom had made plans to meet up with Lindsey tomorrow for lunch while your dad took Dean up on his offer to take the Impala out for a spin._

_“Thanks for this,” you said to Dean as the two of you lie in the guest bed that night. “You're the best. Seriously. Just ask Savannah.”_

_Dean chuckled and said, “She's too freaking cute for her own good, that one. They're in serious trouble when she gets older.”_

_“God, they really are,” you agreed with a smile._

__

_“You know, your brother brought me a beer tonight while I was out by the car. He actually thanked me for fixing up Rusty the bear.”_

_“I told you he doesn't hate you,” you said with a grin as you scooted closer to rest your head on his chest._

_“Oh, I wouldn't go so far as to say he's changed his mind about hating me,” Dean said lightly. “But he brought me a beer and we said several sentences to each other. In a row. And no punches were thrown. So, that's something.”_

_You grinned and rolled your eyes at his under exaggeration of the exchange. “Careful, Winchester,” you teased. “Next thing you know he'll be wanting to share barbecue tips and talk Sunday night football.” Dean’s chest rumbled with a laugh and you closed your eyes, enjoying the sound. “I love you.”_

_“I love you, too, baby.” You felt him press a kiss to the top of your head. “Sleep good.”_

_“You, too. You're going to need it. Tomorrow you’re letting Dad drive the car.”_

_“God, don't remind me,” he groaned, rubbing his face with a hand. “What the hell was I thinking?”_

_You giggled and said, “That you love me even more than you love your car.”_

_Dean was silent for a heartbeat before another chuckle rumbled through his chest, making you grin. “Don't let it go to your head, ” he said, pressing a kiss to your hair._


	3. Chapter 3

The dread in Dean’s chest grew with every passing mile on the road to Osborne. The car was silent, except for the mind-numbing hum of Baby’s tires on the pavement. Given Sam’s lack of commentary or reassurance as they drove, Dean guessed Sam was worried now, too. Somehow that only made things worse.

 

The drive was less than 40 minutes, and as they pulled into town Dean kept his eyes peeled for any signs of your truck while Sam tried your number again.

“Still not answering her phone,” Sam said as he dropped his phone on the middle of the seat. “Time to track it?”

Dean gave a decisive nod. He was past the point about worrying whether it might be an invasion of your privacy. Something was wrong. And times like this were the reason the three of you had the ability to track each other's phones in the first place.

He was headed for the grocery store he knew you'd visited, and Sam’s tracking confirmed that your phone was still in that vicinity.

Dean didn't know whether to be relieved or more concerned by that revelation. There was no good reason for you to still be there. It wasn't a large store, and if you'd simply misplaced your phone, you'd have found a way to contact them to help you track it down.

“I guess we start there, then,” he said gruffly.

Sam sighed, giving a little shrug in agreement. Once they reached their destination they scanned the small parking lot but there was no sign of your truck.

“Let’s head inside and ask around,” Sam said as Dean parked the impala. “We’ll show people her picture. Maybe someone saw something. I mean, her phone is still here, according to the signal.”

“Take your badge,” Dean said as he climbed out of the car. “People will be more willing to talk to us, monkey suits or no.”

Sam didn’t argue and followed Dean around to the back of the car where they both retrieved their fake FBI badges. While they were at it they both pocketed some holy water and tucked their loaded pistols securely into the back of their pants.

The butcher and two checkers remembered seeing you. One of the checkers estimated that you'd left the store just before one o’clock claiming she'd helped you check out just before her lunch break.

“So she left, but her phone is still here somewhere,” Dean said, wishing the information they’d garnered hadn’t just brought on more questions.

“I think Danny was in charge of collecting shopping carts from the parking lot during that time,” the checker who had rung you up thought out loud. “I think he’s just taking his break.”

“It would be great if we could talk to him,” Sam told her with a grateful smile.

“Sure. I’ll go check the break room. Be right back.”

“You talk to this Danny,” Dean told Sam. “I’m going to do another sweep of the parking lot. Maybe check out around back.”

Sam nodded and Dean walked out of the store again. Dean walked each row of the parking lot, looking for any sign of your phone, drops of blood - sick as it made him to imagine you hurt - or anything else that might clue them into what could have happened to you. But despite a thorough search, including glancing underneath all of the vehicles that were parked, he still came up empty handed. None of this took very long, as the store and parking lot weren’t very spacious, and when he was satisfied there wasn’t anything to see, he headed around the side of the building.

At first glance, nothing seemed out of place. A poorly maintained chain link fence separated the property from the empty lot behind it, but the fence gave the building a good wide girth of about 50 yards. There was a delivery truck parked toward the far end of the building, but he couldn’t see anyone in the cab, or standing near the back door to the building. The back of the truck was wide open, a ramp leading up inside, but the truck was already empty of whatever contents it had held for delivery.

He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed your number, checking over his shoulder that the way was clear as he waited for it to ring. He was walking toward the delivery truck to get a closer look when he heard it.

Your favorite song. The one you’d set as your phone’s ringtone. The sound was faint and distorted, but it was definitely your phone ringing somewhere nearby.

His head snapped up in alarm and he called out your name instinctively, jogging now across the pavement toward the delivery truck. As he neared the vehicle, he scanned the ground below it in search of your phone, but to no avail. He glanced left and right, his breath coming quicker now in anticipation. He called out for you again, but there was no answer. And the ringing stopped. He was just about to dial again on his phone, to give himself a noise trail to follow as he continued looking, but then he spotted the pair of dumpsters just beyond the truck.

Dean’s heart sank.

He called out for you again as he forced his feet to carry him forward, but just imagining the horrors he may find inside as he got closer to the first dumpster was enough to make bile rise in his throat.

_Please God, no. Don’t let her be…._

He reached out an unsteady hand to grip the plastic lid and raise it up, peering inside. Trepidation nearly overwhelmed him as he scanned the contents of the dumpster. A few large black plastic bags were in the bottom, along with the expected random items of garbage scattered along the dumpster’s metal base.

He dropped the lid, stepped back, and took a shaky breath, eyeing the second dumpster with the same icy fear gripping at his now pounding heart. He shoved the second lid upward in a hurry, resting most of his weight on one foot while he leaned over, holding his breath as he gazed inside.

The first thing he saw was your phone sitting right on top of a large cardboard box at the bottom of the dumpster.

His heart made a flopping sensation in his chest, skipping a beat as he frantically scanned the rest of the dumpster with his eyes, finding more black garbage bags, and several other cardboard boxes, and some scattered trash. Aside from the phone, there was no sign of you or any of your belongings.

He dropped the lid closed as he sucked in a breath of air, taking a step backward. He raked his fingers through his hair, heart hammering, as he tried to will away the sound of blood roaring in his ears. Then he heard Sam’s voice calling his name. He turned his head and saw Sam rushing toward him in concern.

“Dean! What is it? Are you okay?”

“I - I found her phone,” Dean managed as his brother caught up to him.

“What? Where?” Sam glanced around and then eyed the dumpster warrily. “Just the phone? That’s all you found?”

Dean nodded, not trusting his voice. He couldn’t bare to add the ‘so far’ to the end of Sam’s sentence that felt like it belonged.

Sam’s chest heaved with a breath. He seemed to know his brother couldn’t get the words out to tell him what needed to happen next, but Sam knew exactly what needed to be done. He threw the dumpster lid back far enough to prop itself up against the back of the building. Then he reached a long leg up and placed one foot on the wide lip of metal at the front of the dumpster, gripping the top edge with his hands and hauling himself up until he could jump inside, landing with a loud metallic clang.

Dean had pulled himself together again for the most part, stepping close enough to the dumpster to take your phone from Sam’s outstretched hand. He swiped his finger across the screen, noting that there wasn’t a single scratch or ding on the phone. Sam was slicing open cardboard boxes and garbage bags with a knife to verify their contents as Dean pulled up your recent calls.

He saw the gazillion missed calls from his number, and several from Sam’s as they’d been trying to reach you, but there were no weird unidentified numbers on the list of calls today. He moved on to your messages next, finding the same to be true for texts.

“Can I get a hand?” Sam asked, and Dean gripped his brother’s hand tight and helped haul him up and out of the dumpster before Sam repeated the process with the second one, landing inside with another startling, clunky, metal bang.

“Hey,” called out a man’s voice from near the delivery truck, and Sam and Dean both quickly looked in his direction. “What’s going on?” the man asked as he exited the store’s back door.

Dean rolled his eyes as he pulled his fake badge from inside his jacket and flipped it out for the man to eye from a short distance.

“Official business,” Dean announced, to which the man squinted, glancing at Sam who was standing in the dumpster. “Yeah, yeah, it’s a luxurious job,” Dean added in a tone that left no room for argument.

The man frowned but didn't comment further.

“Hey,” Dean called out to him. “Have you seen anyone back here today?”

The man shook his head. “No sir. I've been here almost an hour coming and going to unload the truck, but I haven't seen anyone messing around.”

Dean nodded his thanks and a clear dismissal, and the man climbed in his truck and drove off in the other direction.

A moment later Sam had finished going through the second dumpster, and Dean took his hand again, leveraging his weight so Sam could climb out. He brushed himself off and said,”There’s nothing more inside, but whoever did this - whoever ditched her phone like that - they obviously wanted us to find it.”

But Dean was only half listening, turning on his heels and scanning their surroundings with a carefully trained eye.

“What? Did you hear something?”

“No … I just - I feel like someone's watching us.”

“I haven't seen-” Sam began before Dean interrupted him.

“I know. Neither have I…. I just - I feel like we're being watched. Whoever did this - whoever has her….” But Dean's voice trailed off as he couldn't finish the sentence.

“All right,” Sam said. “We’ll keep an eye out. Makes sense that if someone is setting a trap, they may be watching to see if we're taking the bait.”

“Which we goddamn are.” Dean sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. “We don't have a choice.”

“Dean,” Sam said, waiting until his brother looked at him before he continued. “We’ll find her. We’ll get her back and bring her home.”

But Dean couldn’t help thinking about the last time he’d been involved in a rescue mission. How he’d said those same words to you about your brother when he’d gone missing. And about how he hadn’t been able to make good on that promise and deliver the happy ending you had so desperately needed.

He let the indescribable horror of the possibilities run cold through his veins for one moment. One long, heartbreaking moment….

And then he took a deep breath and forced it out of his mind, meeting Sam’s gaze with a new conviction. “Damn straight we will.”


	4. Chapter 4

_“Why is it everything comes in waves?” you said dramatically as you approached the nurse's station. “I’m going to take a breather, call my husband and make sure he’s alive,” you said as you dropped off the stack of charts you’d just finished from your string of patients throughout the day._

_“Not so fast,” Shauna, the head nurse, said as she held another clipboard out for you. “One more, Exam 3.”_

_“I’m asking for five minutes,” you told her._

__

_“You don’t want to leave this one waiting. Trust me.” She raised an expectant eyebrow at you._

_You mumbled as you grabbed the chart. “You owe me one.”_

_You thought you heard a satisfied, ‘Pretty sure it’s the other way around,’ from her as you walked away, which was odd._

_As you approached Exam 3, you reached out to pulled the curtain back, saying, “I’m Dr.-” But the scene before you completely stopped you in your tracks. “Dean?” you blurted in surprise._

_“Hey, Doc,” he said in greeting, smiling back at you from where he was sitting on the exam table, long bowed legs dangling off the side._

__

_“Damn…. Have I told you lately how sexy you look in your lab coat?”_

_You leaned in to kiss him, relief washing over you at seeing him there. His lips were warm and soft and he kissed you back with a longing you always sensed in him after he’d been away too long. When the kiss ended you looked at him, seeking comfort in the green of his eyes. “Dean, honey, why is it I have this nagging feeling you're not just here because you missed me on this last case?”_

_“Of course I missed you,” he answered, but you were already leaning back to inspect him better. Aside from the superficial scrape that ran parallel to his left cheekbone, you couldn't see any obvious signs of trauma._

_“Where are you hurt?” you asked, taking his hand in yours. His eyebrows went up a little and you met his gaze, holding it. “Tell me.”_

_He gave a small nod before using his free hand to lift the bottom of his shirt up, revealing a large square of gauze taped in place on his side. Most of the surface of the dressing was covered in bright red blood._

_“Good lord, Winchester,” you said, taking a breath. You kissed the knuckles of his hand you were still holding, all at once grateful that whatever had done this to him hadn’t caused more damage. “What are we dealing with here? Blade, bullet or teeth?”_

_“Blade,” he muttered. “Sam sewed me up, but I think I popped a couple of stitches. Nothing major.”_

_“I’ll decide,” you said as you peeled back the top portion of the gauze to inspect the laceration that spanned nearly five inches beginning just below his ribcage and going inward and upward. “Definitely popped some of the sutures,” you told him regretfully. Dean sucked in air through gritted teeth and you gave him a sympathetic smile “Poor baby,” you said softly._

_“It's fine,” he insisted. “Job hazard and all.”_

_No amount of seeing your husband wounded dulled the ache and the worry that lived in your heart for Dean, and for Sam - for that matter. “Sam made a good attempt at these sutures,” you said as you eyed the wound. “Not sure why they didn’t hold.”_

__

_Dean lowered his voice a little when he spoke again. “Probably because I insisted on helping drag the body somewhere we could burn it.”_

_“Yeah, that sounds about right,” you admitted. “How long ago did this happen?”_

_His cheeks puffed out with a breath of air and he glanced at his watch. “Let’s see, it was about a six hour drive to get here. Sam patched me up before we burned the shifty son of a bitch’s body because I was bleeding like a stuck pig.... I’d say about 8 hours ago, give or take.”_

_“When did you last change this bandage?”_

_“About an hour ago on the side of the highway. Bled through the last one. Had to change my shirt, too.”_

_You frowned and pressed the gauze back into place. “I’ll fix you right up, good as new,” you promised._

_“Course you will,” he said, giving you that adorable smile you loved so much. “Always do.”_

_“Where is Sam, anyway?”_

_“Took the car on home. I told him I'd catch a ride back with you when your shift ends in an hour. Just enough time to patch me up, am I right?”_

_Shauna must have told him when your shift ended, you realized. Dean never knew your schedule. It was hard enough for you to keep track of, and you were the one living it. You kissed Dean’s forehead, saying, “Lose the shirts, handsome. I'll be right back with supplies.”_

_“I’ll be here,” he said as you slid back though the seam in the curtain and headed for the nurse’s station._

_Your co-workers - much like your family - believed Dean had a dangerous job that involved classified government information. It was a good cover. The occasions he or Sam showed up to the hospital needing to be patched up were easily explained away by the fake job, by some undercover case. They also believed he and Sam were work partners, not brothers._

_“Why didn't you just tell me my husband was here?” you said to Shauna as you approached._

_“He wanted to surprise you,” she answered without lifting her eyes from the computer screen in front of her._

_“With a stab wound?” you added._

_Shauna gaped at you then. “He's hurt?”_

_“Knife wound to the abdomen.”_

_Shauna stared at you in mild horror. “I swear, I didn't know. He didn't say - he wasn't even limping. He just asked me to send you in without telling you he was here. He winked and - and I was totally disarmed … ”_

_“Yeah, he has that effect on people,” you said with an understanding smile._

_“That’s exactly why I thought his plan of hiding out was a good one,” she added, lowering her voice. “I don’t have to tell you the girls around here lose their shit when he shows up. And his partner Sam was with him - double the trouble. Figured I was lucky the one with the trenchcoat didn’t walk in, too, or all hell might break loose.” Shauna took a big breath and sighed, the apology still there in her eyes. “What can I do to help?”_

_“Order up an abdominal ultrasound and bring me the machine,” you answered. “And you’re forgiven.” You gave her a quick smile as she headed off in search of the machine._

_You rounded up the rest of the supplies and slipped back into Exam 3. Dean was still sitting there on the exam table, except that his shirts were draped over the chair like you’d asked. “Lie back, big guy,” you encouraged him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You’re going to be here for a while. Get comfy.” He slowly raised his legs to swing them up onto the table. He let out a soft grunt, leaning back against the pillow before you began lowering the bed. You made quick work of the button on his jeans, moving to slide the zipper down next. You didn’t miss his raised eyebrow followed by a sigh of resignation._

_“What?” you asked._

_Dean shook his head. “It’s just that I haven’t seen you in over a week. This isn’t exactly the way I’d like to have you undressing me,” he said with a humorless laugh as you tugged his jeans down off his hips a few inches to gain access to his entire abdomen._

_“Not going to argue with you there, Winchester,” you told him as you placed your hand just above his belly button, using light pressure to palpate the area. “We can always make up for that later.”_

_“Oh yeah?” His green eyes practically lit up with hope. “Tonight?”_

_You grinned. “Maybe. Sort of depends on how severe this injury is…. Any tenderness other than the laceration?” you asked as you continued your exam, checking for lumps, swelling or masses beneath the skin._

_He shook his head. “Nah. If I hadn’t popped the damn stitches I wouldn’t have even mentioned it til you got home.”_

_You pulled on nitrile gloves and gently removed the dressing from his wound, tossing the gauze into the biohazard bin nearby. Sitting on the rolling stool close to the bed allowed you to take a closer look at the laceration and the remaining sutures that were still intact._

_The curtain slid to one side just then as Shauna wheeled over the portable ultrasound, plugging in the unit on the wall and standing back to eye Dean’s wound regretfully._

_“The things a guy has to do to get his wife’s attention,” he teased, feeling her gaze._

_“The things a woman has to do to keep her husband from bleeding out,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth as you shifted your gaze to meet his. “I’m going to have to debride this wound,” you told him as you dabbed with a sterile piece of gauze at the fresh blood slowly pooling at the surface. “The last thing you need is a nasty infection from whatever shifty,” you raised a knowing eyebrow at him as you repeated his loaded phrase, “guy gave you this.” Dean nodded once. “Can you draw up some Lidocaine for me?” you asked Shauna._

_“Sure thing.” She set to work retrieving a syringe from the supply cabinet._

_You pulled your stethoscope from around your neck and put the earpieces in, holding the bell in your hands to warm it before placing it on the right lower quadrant of his abdomen just below the gauze. You listened for bowel sounds, relieved to hear the expected typical gurgling noises before you moved onto the other quadrants to do the same._

_“So what was it this time?” Shauna asked Dean as she worked to load a syringe. “Let me guess…. Cartel?” When Dean didn’t respond in the half second space she gave him, the volume of her voice doubled with excitement. “It was, wasn’t it? I knew they were moving in to the area.”_

_“He’s not D.E.A.,” you said with a soft laugh._

_Dean couldn’t help but chuckle at the way Shauna’s face fell at your clarification._

_“All right then,” she said in an attempt to recover. “Working a big murder case? Missing person?”_

_“Something like that,” Dean told her vaguely, but the little wink he threw her way was enough to satisfy her that she’d been on the right track. She just had no idea that he wasn’t out there fighting human bad guys…._

_Not surprisingly, Dean didn’t so much as flinch when you placed several lidocaine injections into the skin around his laceration to numb the area. He was used to being stitched up without numbing medication, but there was no point in having him go through that unnecessarily when you had the means to make him comfortable._

_“Going to give that a bit for the numbing to set in,” you told him._

_“You're spoiling me,” he teased. “If Sam were here he'd be giving me shit about letting you numb me up first.”_

_“He should have stuck around then,” Shauna said with a little shrug. “Missed opportunity.”_

_Dean raised an eyebrow at her. “I'll tell him you said so.”_

_“You do that.”_

_You wondered if Dean had noticed the little rise in color in Shauna's cheeks at the mention of Sam._

_How had you not realized Shauna liked Sam? And then you wondered if Sam knew Shauna liked Sam…. Maybe you and Dean were just catching on. And dammit if that didn't make you like Shauna even more._

_You grabbed the ultrasound transducer and she applied some of the sterile ultrasound gel to it for you._

__

_“Little cold here,” you said to Dean as you pressed the transducer to his abdomen near the wound. Watching the screen to inspect his small intestine, you scanned with a trained eye for any signs of rupture or pockets of fluid or air where they didn’t belong._

_“You nearly got me in trouble, tough guy,” Shauna told Dean as you worked, hands on her hips now. “How about we make a deal, you and I?” she continued. “I’m happy to help you surprise your wife anytime, but only if you promise to tell someone immediately if you walk in here bleeding or broken. No more hiding potentially life-threatening wounds. Capiche?”_

_“Life threatening?” Dean said doubtfully. “This is hardly-” But the look you gave him caused him to pause in his argument. “Capiche,” Dean agreed reluctantly, holding out a fist for Shauna to bump, sealing the deal. Then he watched as you studied the images on the screen thoroughly, moving the transducer slowly across his skin as you tried to ascertain the damage the shapeshifter had inflicted with its knife._

_“Congratulations, it’s a girl,” Shauna announced, earning an eye roll from Dean that had you biting back a laugh._

_“Good news, honey. Your small intestine appears to be intact,” you said, freezing and saving an image on the screen. “And from what I can tell … the knife missed your liver, just barely.”_

_“Thank god for that,” Dean said with a grin. “I sort of need that to be working when I have a drink later.”_

_Shauna took the ultrasound transducer from you to clean and sterilize it, wheeling the cart out of the exam space._

_“Going to get you all cleaned up, freshen the skin edges a bit, and put some new sutures in,” you told Dean, bending to kiss his forehead. “And I'm putting you on an antibiotic, just to be safe. Then we'll get you home and put you in bed with the tv remote and some dinner.”_

_“And maybe a little TLC?” he asked, cocking his head to the side and giving you that grin that is so full of boyish charm._

_“I think that can be arranged.” You leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. “I might need to monitor you tonight,” you added playfully. “You know, make sure you’re being a good boy and following doctor’s orders.”_

_Something else flashed in Dean’s eyes in response to your words then - something that effectively washed away anything boyish in his features._

_“Whatever you say, Doc.” And dammit if your knees didn’t weaken and your skin flush at the rough edge in his voice, the longing in those green eyes._

_“Reign it in, cowboy,” you said lightly, tapping him on the chest with a hand. “Gotta get you patched up first.”_

_He swallowed hard, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “How’d I ever get so lucky?” he said sincerely._

_“Says the guy with a knife wound,” you told him. “I’m not sure ‘lucky’ is the right word.”_

_“I am,” Dean added. “I’m sure.”_

_You smiled and changed into a pair of sterile gloves as Shauna returned. She helped you prep a sterile setting and set out the 4-O nylon suture and the needle driver. After confirming that the skin was numb, you set to work doctoring your husband._

_Half an hour later Dean had new sutures, a fresh dressing, and a filled antibiotic prescription from the hospital pharmacy. You only noticed the slight limp in his step because you knew to look for it - knew exactly what his adorable, bow-legged gait looked like when he wasn't injured._

_“You’re riding shotgun,” you told him as you approached your BMW in the parking lot before he could offer to drive._

_He reluctantly went around to the passenger seat and slowly lowered himself inside._

_“Better call your brother,” you reminded him as you started the engine._

_“Yeah, you're right,” he agreed as he pulled his phone out._

__

_His conversation with Sam was quick, and you whispered to him to let Sam know you'd bring dinner home with you._

_“A shifter, huh?” you asked as you drove. “Haven't seen one of those in a while, have you?”_

_“Been about six months, I guess. Too soon, if you ask me. I hate the filthy bastards. Give me a nice salt and burn over a shapeshifter any day of the week.” You glanced over at him, smiling in the dim bluish lighting of the car's interior. “What?” he asked._

_“Nothing. I just missed my hero of a husband. That's all.”_

_He chuckled. “Let's not go throwing that term around loosely.”_

_“Oh I don't.”_

_“Oh yeah? What does that make you?” he pressed. “What do you call the one who saves the hero?”_

_“A glutton for punishment,” you said with a shit eating grin that made him laugh again. Then his face twisted slightly and he sucked in air through his teeth. “Lidocaine wearing off?” you asked sympathetically._

_“Seems as though.”_

_“What do you want for dinner?” you asked._

_He raised an eyebrow at you. “Are you trying to distract me with food, woman?”_

_“Only if it's working.”_

_“Hell yes it is. I'm starving.”_

_Dean filled you in on the details of the hunt during the drive home, after a brief stop for some carry out. He asked you about your week, and you'd opened up to him about how rough work had been since he'd been gone. You'd treated a nine-year old girl who'd been in a car accident with her family. She and her twin brother had taken the brunt of the collision in the backseat, and while the brother was doing a stint in the ICU, he'd been stable as of this morning. You wished you could say the same for his sister. She'd suffered severe internal bleeding, head trauma, and had bled out on the table despite your team's best efforts to stabilize her enough to get her up to surgery._

_Dean had taken your hand in his as you drove, squeezing it gently. “Babe, I'm - I'm so sorry.”_

_“It doesn't get easier,” you told him. “Telling parents they've lost a child. It's the hardest thing I do.”_

_“But you did everything in your power to save her,” he reminded you. He didn't have to add the implied ‘you can't save everyone.’_

_You knew it. He knew it. You both saved people for a living, and you both carried the weight of your failures as much as you celebrated the victories in between. But you knew he understood._

_“Thanks,” you said to him, a smile spreading across your lips. “I'm lucky. Lucky to have you. Most of my colleagues … their spouses don't understand. It's hard to explain that part of the job to someone, but I don't have to tell you because you get it.”_

_“I wish I could do more.”_

_“Just having you home … safe. Getting to talk to you like this. It's enough.”_

_Dean smiled then, and the corners of his eyes crinkled a little._

_“Sammy?” Dean hollered as the two of you walked into the war room. “We’ve got hot wings here!”_

_But it was Castiel that rounded the corner to greet you both first._

_“Cas, hey,” Dean said as he sat the bucket of hot wings down on the table._

_Cas took a step toward Dean, his brow furrowed with worry. “Sam said you were hurt. I didn't realize before I left with the girl-”_

_“I'm good, Cas. Really,” Dean told him. But that didn't stop Cas from looking to you for confirmation._

__

_“He'll be good as new in no time.”_

_Dean gave Cas an I-told-you-so smirk before adding, “How's Jenny?”_

_You recognized the name of the young woman Dean had told you they'd rescued from the shifter._

_“She's safe,” Cas answered. “I got her to the hospital and the doctor said she had suffered only a mild concussion and dehydration. I stayed with her until her roommate came for her. I had some explaining to do about the creature, and she had a lot of questions, but she asked me to thank you both for saving her life.”_

_Dean gave a little nod as you made your way toward the angel, opening your arms in greeting._

_“It's good to see you, Cas,” you told him as he hugged you back._

_“You as well,” he answered. Then he leaned back, holding you at arm's length as he gazed at you in that soul-bending way only Cas can do. “You - you lost someone on the job,” he observed solemnly. “I'm sorry....”_

_You gave him a sad smile. “Me too.”_

_Sam walked in then and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. “Sorry I didn't stick around the hospital long enough to say hi,” he told you. “I just really needed a shower, and I knew this guy was in good hands.” He gestured to Dean who was already biting into a hot wing._

_“No worries,” you told Sam, lowering your voice. “Besides, I'm sure Shauna will forgive you as long as you stick around next time.”_

_Sam let out a nervous chuckle and you gave him a tight squeeze. “FYI, Dean may be onto you. So if he gives you a hard time you can at least be prepared. I love Shauna, by the way. She's smart, talented, and quick on her feet. You should definitely ask her out if you haven't already.”_

_Sam beamed at you as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Good to know.” But he didn't offer anything more, leaving you to wonder._

_Just then an exchange between Dean and Cas caught your attention as Dean helped himself to a chicken wing._

_“How bad is your injury really?” Cas asked him._

_“Just a scratch.”_

_“If that were true you wouldn't have needed to stop at the hospital on your way back here.”_

_“Do I have to be seriously wounded just to stop in and see my wife?”_

_Cas eyed Dean, unconvinced. “You should let me heal you.”_

__

_“Thanks, but no thanks, buddy. I can't charge into every fight thinking you'll just patch me up afterward. I'll get sloppy and careless. And you can't always be there. Aches and pains are part of the job. I accepted that years ago.”_

_“Dean-”_

_“I'm good Cas. Thanks. Besides, going to get a little TLC tonight, if you know what I mean. I'll be feeling great.” Dean winked at Cas and the angel just shifted his weight uncomfortably. “You do know what I mean?”_

_Call just sighed. “I believe so, yes.”_

_“All right, then.”_

__

_But Cas rolled his eyes, saying, “Despite what you choose to believe, intercourse is not an act of healing that will have any significant effect on your recovery.”_

_Dean smiled smugly and cast a glance in your direction, which you pretended not to notice before he looked at Cas again. “Now that, my friend, is where you're dead wrong.”_


	5. Chapter 5

“Danny claims he didn’t see anything suspicious happen during his trips in and out of the parking lot to collect grocery carts,” Sam said as he and Dean walked around the side of the grocery store and back toward the car.

“You believe him?” Dean asked, following Sam’s gaze to the gangly teenage kid in a red polo, khaki jeans and a nametag with the store’s logo on it who was pushing a train of five grocery carts toward the store’s entrance.

“Yeah,” Sam said as he watched Danny go. “I do.”

A few painstaking phone calls to the surrounding hospitals in a 200 miles radius confirmed that no one fitting your description had been admitted.

Dean’s anxiety only grew with that information. He didn’t know what he’d expected to feel…. Relief? The gnawing in his stomach certainly wasn’t that. He and Sam quickly put a few extra magazines of ammunition in their pockets and armed themselves with blades and holy water from Baby’s trunk, as they still had no guess what they might be facing.

“So someone ditched her phone, but where the hell is her truck?” Sam said as they climbed back in the Impala.

“I don’t know. Fortunately, the truck is harder to hide.” Dean started the car’s engine and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. Sam pulled his phone out and began swiping along the screen. “C’mon, man. I need your eyes if we’re going to find the truck.”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “I just - I don’t know.” He set his phone down in his lap like he was torn about something.

Dean glared at him. “What? Spit it out.”

“I know this isn’t a case, but the same skill set and logic applies.”

“Yeah. So?”

“So,” Sam began. “We normally roll into a town with a lead of some kind, or - or a pattern to follow.”

“And?”

“Well, it’s not like the police are investigating her sudden disappearance. But what if she’s not the only one? What if something’s going on and we just don’t know it yet.”

“You’re thinking the police may have information about someone else being taken?”

“Won’t know if I don’t look,” Sam said.

“Right under our noses? An hour from home? You think we wouldn’t know?”

“We literally just got home last night. Have you searched for cases yet?”

Dean realized with sharp clarity that Sam was right. “Okay then, you do that. I’ll watch for the truck.”

Sam hesitated, like he wasn't sure if Dean was being sarcastic. But Dean just scanned the surrounding homes and businesses as he drove, prompting Sam to pick up his phone again and scan the local news headlines.

“Anything?” Dean asked Sam after a few long minutes.

“No,” Sam sighed. “Nothing. Not much happening around here. This place is pretty quiet … eerily so.”

Both of them thought on that a moment, wondering if the lack of news meant anything in particular, but then Dean practically slammed on the brakes, eyes snapping up to the rear view mirror as he proceeded to throw the engine in reverse.

“What the hell? Sam asked, still bracing himself with his hands on the dash and checking the side view mirror to be certain no one was about to rear-end them. But Dean just backed the car up quickly and pulled forward into a small motel parking lot. And Sam understood when he glanced over and saw your truck parked haphazardly on the corner of a row of motel room doors on the right.

Dean parked next to the truck and cut Baby’s engine, practically jumping out of the car in his hurry to get to your truck. Sam was no less enthusiastic, following on his heels. Dean threw open the truck’s passenger door and Sam went around, doing the same on the driver’s side.

“See anything?” Sam asked as they both frantically but thoroughly tossed the inside of the truck, searching for a clue of any kind.

“No.” The keys were hanging in the ignition, and Dean reached over and snagged them, yanking them out and stuffing them into his pocket for safe keeping.

“I’ll go see if the motel clerk knows anything,” Sam said as he closed the door to the truck.

“You do that. I’ll bang on doors.” Dean locked and closed the other door to the truck, pulling his fake FBI badge from his jacket and walking up to the door directly in front of your truck, which was the south end of the building, one door from the end. He knocked loud three times and waited impatiently.

After a moment with no response, he knocked again, calling out, “FBI. Open up.”

But his demands were met with silence. He bent slightly to inspect the type of lock to see how difficult it might be to pick, but the door to the next room down opened, and a guy who appeared to be in his early twenties peered out to stare at him.

“Sorry,” he said, hesitantly. “I, uh, I heard you say FBI. Is everything okay?”

Before Dean could form a response a young woman stepped out from the door as well, saying, “Honey? Is it the cops?”She glanced up at Dean and he flipped his badge open in their direction.

“FBI, actually,” he clarified. “Can I ask you two a couple of questions.”

“Sure,” the young woman said. ”Not sure how much help we can be, but we’ll give it a shot.”

Dean could only assume the guy with her was her boyfriend as he shrugged in agreement. “We’re conducting an investigation,” Dean said as he approached them, pocketing his badge again and pulling out his phone. He pulled up a picture of you on his phone and held it out for them to inspect closely. “Have you seen her around?”

The man shook his head slowly. “Can’t say I have.”

The woman took a good long look at the image on his phone before giving Dean an apologetic smile. “She’s pretty. I’d remember her if I had.”

Dean’s heart sank and he cocked his head slightly, trying to mask his disappointment. He cleared his throat. “What about this truck?” He said as he gestured with a hand toward your pickup where it was parked. “Did you happen to see who was driving it?”

“It wasn’t here this morning,” the guy offered.

“Or when we left to go get lunch earlier,” the woman added. “But it was parked right there when we got back. This woman you’re looking for, is she in trouble?”

“She’s missing,” Dean said, his throat constricting as the words left his mouth, doing his best to ignore the sad look in the woman’s eyes at his declaration. He couldn’t stand to see even an ounce of his own pain reflecting back at him in her gaze or he’d just lose it. So Dean did what he always does. He pushed through it. “You guys notice anything strange or suspicious here at the motel?”

“Suspicious?” The woman held her hand over her heart at his use of the word.

“Yeah,” Dean said. “About any of the other hotel guests you may have come into contact with? Or anything strange in town at all?”

“To be honest, we haven’t spent much time away from our room,” the woman said, putting her hand on her boyfriend’s shoulder affectionately. The boyfriend just gave Dean a cocky grin.

“Well, thanks anyway,” Dean said, deadpan. He moved on to the next door as they disappeared back inside their own. There were no vehicles parked near the next three doors down, but he did a quick knock at each of them before Sam came around the corner on his way out of the motel’s front office.

“Tell me something - anything - useful,” Dean said as Sam caught up with him.

“I don’t know if it’s anything or not,” Sam began as he and Dean walked back toward your truck. “The owner said a ‘rowdy bunch of night owls’ rented rooms twenty-nine and thirty,” Sam said, drawing air quotes with his fingers. “Two women, three men, in their twenties or thirties. They’ve been here a few days, but they were here last week as well. Said he was tempted not to rent to them this time around, but they paid in cash up front for two weeks and he couldn’t turn it down. Apparently business has been slow lately.”

“Rowdy isn’t exactly suspicious,” Dean said, wiping his face with a hand. “What else you got?”

“I don’t know. Owner said they’re all ‘tatted up’.”

Normally Dean would have told Sam to lay off the air quotes, but he was too desperate, too fearful to think about anything beyond just finding you.

“He said they spend the day here most days and disappear at dark, showing back up in the mornings. Oh, and apparently they dress like bikers, but drive Jeeps.”

“Jeeps?” Dean’s brow furrowed, but he wasn’t sure what any of that meant. He and Sam had reached the hood of your truck again, and both looked up at the door in front of it to stare at the number twenty-nine decal just above the peephole.

“We need to get in this room,” Dean said.

Dean was grateful when Sam didn’t try to stop him when he pulled his lock-picking kit out. He didn’t have a whole hell of a lot to go on here, but his gut was telling him your truck wasn’t parked in front of this room for nothing, Jeep-wielding wanna-be-bikers aside. He’d learned a long time ago most people weren’t at all what they seemed.

Sam kept watch while he picked the lock, and then Sam pulled his firearm and stood at the ready as Dean gave him a nod and then pushed the door open. Dean immediately took two steps backward as he drew his own gun, stepping into the room after Sam as they tactically scanned the room for potential threats. A quick sweep was all it took to ascertain that no one was inside.

The room had articles of clothing strewn all over, and it looked like the maids had at least given a good, honest attempt at cleaning because the garbage bins had been emptied and there was fresh soap packets near the sink and new rolls of toilet paper on the roll.

“There might still be something here,” Sam said. “Something helpful.” Sam kicked clothes around on the floor with his boot, trying to see if anything lie beneath them. After a few minutes of tossing the room Dean cursed under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“There’s nothing here, Sam,” he admitted. “You said they rented this room and the room over, right?”

“Yeah. Twenty-nine and thirty.”

“Let’s try the other one.”

Sam nodded and they walked back outside, closing the door behind them. Dean picked the lock on room thirty and Sam covered him once again while he pushed it open. Aside from the addition of a pizza box with a few left behind slices that appeared to be several days old, the room looked very similar to the first. Clothes were haphazardly draped over chairs or in piles on the floor. But once again, the trash bins had been emptied. They scanned for clues, but came up empty-handed.

“What about her phone?” Sam asked.

Dean hated the desperation he sensed in his brother’s tone as he pulled your phone from his pocket and handed it over. “I already checked her calls and texts. I didn’t see anything in there, but have at it.”

Dean made a second scan of the room, walking slowly and inspecting every item he could see. He glimpsed a matchbook near the corner of the TV and picked it up to inspect it closer. It was from a bar. Maybe a local one. He was deciding maybe that would be their next stop when Sam said, “Oh god … Dean?”

Dean spun to face Sam, seeing the horrified expression on his brother’s face as he stared at your phone. He stepped up next to Sam and peered at the screen, seeing a video file in your phone’s gallery that Sam hadn’t pressed play on yet. The video file was dated with today’s date, and showed an image of you either sleeping, unconscious, or worse.

Sam pressed the screen with a thumb, setting the image into motion as the video clip began playing. Dean’s jaw went slack, dread stealing his breath as he and Sam watched you on the screen. The video showed a close up of your face.

Blood had trickled from your nose and down along the corner of your mouth. Whoever held your phone moved backward until all of you came into view.

Your unmoving form lay on the ground, and black, veiny lines colored your skin on one arm. Echoes of heartless laughter rang out, either coming from the one filming or someone else nearby. An arm shot out from off camera, a human-appearing hand gripping your jaw and roughly moving your face to the left and then the right, displaying your lack of responsiveness.

Tattoos covered the arm and hand, and the hand burst into blue flames just as the phone turned to the side, showing who the hand belonged to. The man had a bald head, and almost all of his visible skin was covered in ink. His eyes glowed an iridescent blue, matching the flames that coated his hand. But Dean knew, as well as Sam did, that this was no man they were looking at.

Someone off screen dropped a couple of photographs on top of you, landing on your stomach…. Two different 4 x 6 sized pictures…. Dean squinted, trying to make out the images. One of them was a picture of you and him and Sam all eating lunch at a diner, the three of you all sitting in a booth. The second picture was of you walking alongside Dean, the two of you in your FBI garb. Another sickening laugh rang out just as the video file ended abruptly.

Dean dragged in a deep breath while he fought to ward off the panic thundering in his chest. He’d never be able to wipe the image of your too-still body sprawled out on the ground like that, blood draining from your nose. “God, Sammy, she’s …”

But Dean could hardly get the thought past his lips. “They’re probably feeding off her. They only took her to get to us.”

“Hey,” Sam said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “She's alive. They'll want to keep her that way if they want to lure us in. Now that we know it’s Djinn we’re dealing with, we’ll find them. We’re going to get her back. We’ll get her the antidote.”

Dean straightened and nodded, taking a breath. “I’m going to kill every one of those sick bastards.”


	6. Chapter 6

__

_Dean was sitting at a table in the bunker’s library, his chair pushed back a ways, staring intently at something. You thought he was focused on an object across the room, like a book on the shelf a few feet away, perhaps. But then he got this cute little smile on his face and held a hand out, motioning with a finger as if he were stroking something you couldn’t see just above the surface of the table right in front of him.  
_

_“Honey? Whatcha doing?” you said slowly as you approached._

_He turned his head to look at you and you couldn’t help but smile at the look of pure innocence on his face._

_“Just hanging out with J.P.,” he said casually._

_“Um, who?” You glanced around the war room in confusion._

_“J.P.,” he asserted. “He’s right here.”_

_He reached out a hand again to the table, and yep, he was definitely miming petting something._

_You took a few steps closer, saying, “If this is you finding a spider and messing with me like you’re going to keep it for a pet, you can just squash it right now or you’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” you said half-heartedly. But as you leaned in closer there was nothing on the table at all. Not even, to your great relief - albeit confusion - a house spider._

_“Pft….” Dean turned his head to look at you as you came around the table to sit across from him with your coffee mug. “J.P. does not appreciate being compared to a spider. He’s a good looking fish. Besides, aren’t crabs more likely to look like spiders? Those things are creepy. J.P. is cool.”_

_“Who is J.P.?” Sam asked as he walked into the room._

_You opened your mouth to respond, but found you had no words. Had he really just said J.P. was a good looking_ fish _…?_

_You still couldn’t decipher the look on Dean’s face. That alone was confusing. You had an innate ability to translate every hook of that man’s eyebrow, every tug at the corner of his mouth, all the things he didn’t have to say as they passed through the soul-blazing green of his eyes._

_But_ this?  _You were utterly dumbstruck._

_To add to things, Dean wasn’t the least bit phased by the confusion, yours or Sam’s. “He’s my fish,” he said simply._

_Sam stopped short of the table, his brows knitting together as he gazed at his brother. “Your … your fish?”_

_Dean just nodded as he gazed happily toward that spot on the table again. Sam looked to you then, and you shrugged your shoulders, mouthing, ‘I have no idea.’_

__Sam cocked his head to one side, watching Dean reach out to stroke the invisible fish like you’d watched him do._  _

 

_“Dean, tell me you didn’t taste something from the supply cupboard again,” Sam said in exasperation._

_But the thought of Dean ingesting something triggered a train of thought and you pulled your phone from your pocket do a quick Google search, confirming your suspicions._

_You gestured with a jerk of your chin for Sam to follow you to the war room. Dean seemed content to sit there while you took the few steps down into the next room with Sam only a step behind you._

_“I think I know what’s going on,” you said in hushed tones once the two of you were alone._

_“All the blunt force trauma to the head has finally taken its toll?” Sam teased._

_“It’s the antibiotics I put him on last night for the stab wound,” you told him. “He’s got to be having a reaction to the Penicillin.”_

_“You really think this is a side effect?” Sam looked amused while he considered you, casting a glance over his shoulder at Dean who was talking to the fish now._

_“It’s not common for hallucinations to occur, but it’s not unheard of.”_

_“Huh,” Sam runs his hand through his hair and then stuffs his hands into his jeans pockets. “What do we do about that?”_

_“Not a whole lot,” you admitted. “I’ll call in a new antibiotic to the pharmacy, but as far as the side effects go we just sort of have to let him ride it out. It’ll wear off.”_

_“How soon?”_

_You chewed your lip briefly. “Hard to say exactly. Could wear off by tonight. Could be tomorrow.”_

****

_Sam gave a disbelieving smile and bumped your shoulder with his arm as he turned. “Looks like J.P. is here for the evening.”_

_You grinned and followed him back up the steps._ _“Hey honey,” you said to Dean as you approached, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “How are you feeling?”_

_“I’m okay.” He looked up at you as you came around to his side and softly cupped his cheek with a hand, working your way up to his forehead._

_“So, J.P.,” Sam said slowly. “That short for Jimmy-”_

_“Page,” Dean finished, nodding._

 

_“Of course. Who else?”_

_“You don’t feel too warm,” you observed out loud. “Why don’t we get you to the infirmary to check that wound and change the bandage,” you said, offering Dean a hand up from his chair. He let you pull him up and made a little scooping motion with his free hand in what you assumed was an attempt to grab J.P. the fish._

 

_Sam raised an amused eyebrow at you as you led Dean with a hand on his shoulder out of the library._

_“How’s the pain?” you asked Dean while you pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves and grabbed a few packets of gauze and some medical tape._

_“It’s fine.” Then Dean held up his cupped hand and said, “Tell her I’ve had worse,” to his imaginary fish._

_You grinned, unable to help yourself. If you were going to be living with J.P. for the rest of the evening, you’d might as well enjoy it. “No fish on the exam table,” you said halfheartedly, gesturing for him to hop up on it._

_Dean moved like he was setting the fish on the counter top nearby before he pulled off his flannel and got comfortable on the table. He leaned back and pulled up his t-shirt to give you access. You gently peeled back the bandage and studied the wound with a trained eye._

_“No significant redness,” you observed. “Minimal drainage. No obvious signs of infection, so that’s good.”_

_“Hell yes it is,” Dean agreed._

_“The sutures are holding well. I’m really happy with the way this looks today, but I think we’re going to switch up your antibiotic,” you told him._

_“Whatever you say, baby. You know best.”_

_“Can I get that in writing?” you teased as you placed a new square of gauze over the wound and began taping the edges to his skin._

_Dean smirked at you, and for a moment you almost forgot about the fish in the room. When you finished dressing the wound you pulled out your phone and made a call to the pharmacy in town. You and Dean found Sam in the mess hall making a sandwich, the smell of which hit you like a brick as soon as you walked in._

_“Dude, have a heart, will ya? Dean said in an overly dramatic tone._

_“What?” Sam asked, genuine confusion on his face as he turned away from the stove long enough to study Dean’s face._

 

_Dean rolled his eyes at his brother. “A Tuna Melt? Really?”_

_Sam gave an exasperated sigh. “Seriously? Dean, you love tuna.”_

_Dean held his empty cupped hands out away from Sam protectively as he took a seat at the table. “J.P. doesn’t need to know that,” he argued defensively._

_“J.P. will have to forgive me just this once,” Sam said in an effort to placate his delusional brother._

_“How about a grilled cheese, big guy?” you asked Dean in an effort to change the conversation._

_“That sounds great. Thanks, baby.” Dean smiled gratefully at you and you washed your hands at the sink before opening the loaf of bread to grab enough slices for a few sandwiches._

_“Tell me,” Sam said from where he was still standing over the stove. “How is it J.P. can live out of water? Shouldn’t he be in a fishbowl or a tank or something?”_

_Dean stretched his legs out under the table and said, “He’s a magic fish, obviously. A witch must have put a spell on him or something.” His response was so matter-of-fact it left little room for argument._

_Sam must have realized the same because he just smiled to himself as he flipped his melt on the pan. “How you healing up?”_

_“Fine so far,” Dean answered. “Not going to complain about having a couple of days off, anyway.”_

_“Amen to that,” Sam said as he carried his plate of food toward the table._

_“When is your next shift at the hospital?” Dean asked you._

_“Well, technically I’m scheduled to work the early shift in the morning, but I was actually thinking of taking a couple of personal days. Stay home with you two for a bit.”_

__Dean beamed at you. “Really?”_  _

____“Sure. Why not? I feel like I hardly see you lately.”_ _ _ _

 

_You meant it. Even if Dean’s current condition was the driving force for your decision, you were honestly grateful for the excuse to spend some time at home with him. “What kind of cheese do you want?” you asked Dean, glancing over your shoulder as you waited for him to answer._

_“Cheddar is fine. Thanks, babe.” You were just turning back toward the fridge when you glimpsed the sheer and instant panic on Dean’s face as Sam sat his plate down on the table across from him._

_“Whoa, whoa hey! Sam!” Dean called out, snatching up Sam’s plate from the table with one hand with lightning speed. “J.P. is under there! Watch where you’re putting stuff.”_

_“What?” Sam said quickly, his expression very much deer-in-the-headlights. “I … I didn’t-”_

_“For hell sakes, he’s a fish, Sam. He can’t bench press a dinner plate. You squashed him.” Dean had scooped up the invisible fish and was now holding out his empty hands, cupped like he was cradling J.P.._

 

_Sam looked like he was about to tell Dean how absolutely ridiculous he was acting when he realized Dean’s eyes were watering with emotion._

_“Dean? I - I’m sorry. Okay?” Sam offered slowly. “I didn’t see him-”_

_“Well, you should be more careful,” Dean chided as he brought his hands in close to his own face, squinting in concentration as he appeared to examine his fish closely. “Look at him. He’s hurt.”_

_“I’m sure he’s fine,” Sam offered, but Dean was having none of it._

 

_“He’s not fine. He’s barely moving.” You placed a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder as you bent to gaze at the air he held in his cupped hands. “God he’s really hurt. What if he dies?” Dean said._

_The idea of this imaginary fish was completely ridiculous, but the pain in Dean’s eyes was real enough to break your heart. And before you could figure out what to do next, Dean’s breathing grew quick and shallow. In the space of a moment he was on the verge of having a full-blown panic attack._

_Sam was holding his hands up in a gesture of retreat and utter dismay._

_You took great care to make sure your own face didn’t reflect the thoughts running through your mind as you tried to console Dean. “Let me take a look at him,” you said instinctively, pretending to gently scoop the imaginary fish from Dean’s palms into your own. You mimicked transferring the fish to your left hand to hold him safely while you turned your focus on your husband. A tear escaped his eye just then and he looked like he could just as easily hyperventilate as anything._

_“Dean, honey,” you said, reaching out to gently raise his chin. “Look at me.” He reluctantly tore his green eyes away from your other hand to meet your gaze. “Good. You just keep breathing okay? I’ve got J.P. for now.” You pointed at yourself and added, “Doctor. Remember?” You pressed your palm flat against his chest, feeling the forceful thump-thump of his heart beneath his rib cage. “Breathe against my hand, big guy. Can you do that for me?”_

_Dean gave a small nod, wiping his face with his hand. “Y-yeah….Okay.”_

_“Deep breaths,” you coached, making sure to throw the occasional glance at your other hand to keep a proverbial eye on J.P. to satiate Dean._

_Sam mouthed a dramatic, but sincere, ‘I’m sorry’ that had you responding with a wink that Dean couldn’t see._

_“This was only an accident,” you said, more for Dean’s benefit than anything. “Sam didn’t mean for it to happen. Could have just as easily been me to make that mistake.”_

_This time Dean’s nod was barely perceptible, but his breathing was beginning to level out, which you hoped meant he might be slightly more rational when you spoke again. “Would you look at that. I think the little guy is coming around,” you told Dean about J.P.. “His - his gills seem to be working. And his coloring is coming back. He’s doing a cute little wiggle.” A smile broke out on Dean’s face then and he looked up at you with pure hope shining in his eyes. You were just grateful he was going along with it, and you mentally high-fived yourself for the acting skills you hadn’t known you possessed. “Must have just gotten the wind knocked out of him. Looks like he’s going to be okay.”_

_“You think so?”_

_You nodded, smiling back at Dean and using your free hand to brush away the tear that had tracked down his cheek. He let out a breath that was almost a soft laugh, filled with relief. “Here. I think he’d like to see you again. Wanna take him?”_

_Dean wiped at his face again and nodded, holding out his hands eagerly. You took extra special care to transfer the invisible fish to his waiting hands and then straightened. You could tell by the way the tension visibly left Sam’s body that the two of you were in agreement about having just dodged a bullet._

_You buttered several pieces of bread and lined a few with cheese before pressing them to the pan on the stove._

_“Scared me, little buddy,” Dean was saying to his fish. “Let’s not do that again.”_

_Sam, who was now sitting as far away from Dean and J.P. as possible without leaving the table, kept glancing your way like he was afraid you were going to leave him alone with Dean or something._

_After flipping the sandwiches once, you opened a cupboard and pulled out a medium sized glass mixing bowl, carrying it over to toward Dean._

 

_“How do you feel about J.P. getting his own bowl as a safety precaution?” you asked him. “Water or no, it will give him some shelter and make it easier to keep an eye on him.”_

Anything to avoid another breakdown….

_Dean chewed his bottom lip briefly, considering your proposal. “Actually, that could work,” he decided. You held the bowl out before him expectantly and Dean mimed placing J.P. gently inside of it. Then you offered the bowl to Dean and he took it, setting it nearby on the table in plain sight._

_“He looks good, doesn’t he?” you asked confidently about J.P. when you brought Dean his sandwich a moment later._

_“Yeah. I think you’re right. Just got the wind knocked out of him.” Dean smiled and you found yourself sending up a silent prayer that the side effects of the medication would wear off sooner rather than later._

_After the three of you had eaten, you suggested Dean take J.P. into the library and read him a story. It had been an easy sell, and he happily carried the empty glass mixing bowl off._

 

_“What the hell was that?” Sam asked the moment you were alone. “At first I thought it was kind of funny, but now he’s losing his shit because I - ” he made finger quotes “ - ‘squashed’ his imaginary fish with my dinner plate? It’s a good thing you were here…. I had no idea where to go from there.”_

_“It’ll wear off,” you assured Sam. “Eventually…. In the meantime, we shouldn’t leave him alone. I called in another antibiotic to the pharmacy, so would you rather make a run into town for it, or babysit the Fish Whisperer?”_

_“Dear god, don’t leave me here with him like this,” Sam said, smiling when he realized how desperate he sounded. “Seriously though. Don’t.”_

_You punched him lightly in the arm and and said, “Finish your sandwich first. The pharmacy doesn’t close for a couple of hours. And with that you left him to go join Dean and J.P.’s Men of Letters story time, extraordinaire._

_Sam passed through the library fifteen minutes later, announcing that he was going to go pick up Dean’s new medication and run some errands in town. You gave him a thumbs up and mouthed, ‘I’ve got this.’_

_And you thought you did. At least for the next twenty minutes while Dean told stories to his imaginary fish. It wasn’t until he grew tired of story time that you found yourself wondering how you could distract him to prevent another mishap like the one in the mess hall._

 

_“I’ve got an idea,” you said as you made your way over to where he was sitting and straddled his lap. “You and I just so happen to have the place all to ourselves until Sam gets back.”_

_“Well, not quite,” Dean jerked his chin in the direction of the makeshift fishbowl on the table next to him, but he was smiling like he was open to whatever you might be suggesting._

_You chose to ignore his inclusion of the fish and leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a warm, slow kiss. Dean responded by cradling the back of your head with a hand, the other falling to rest on your waist. His fingers dug lightly into your hip through your clothes, and you grinned victoriously against his mouth._

_After a moment you pulled back to gaze at him, biting your lip seductively. “I know you’re wounded, soldier, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun. I promise to be gentle.”_

_You recognized the lust that flashed in his eyes as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. “That sounds promising.”_

_You gripped the open collar of his flannel and spread it open, pushing it over his broad shoulders as you leaned in to plant soft kisses along his jawline. With some effort, you helped him shed the extra layer as you continued to kiss, leaving him in only his tee shirt and jeans. “Why don’t we move this to our bedroom.”_

 

_Dean gazed up at you with glossy eyes, an adorably dopey smile on his face. “Sounds good to me.”_

_You climbed off his lap and he rose to his feet, taking your outstretched hand in his. You were two steps from the hall when he stopped dead in his tracks, turning to look over his shoulder._

_“What about J.P.? I can’t just leave him-”_

_“Yes, you can,” you cut in, watching a battle of desires and loyalties play out on his features right in front of you. You lowered your voice to more soothing tones and moved to stand directly in front of him, touching his cheek softly. “J.P. is safe right where he is. No one is going to hurt him. He has the entire bookshelf there to look at and admire from his cozy, protective bowl. He’ll be fine for a bit. I promise.”_

_Dean was still torn - that much was obvious - but he let you lead him down the hall to the room you shared. You closed the door once you had him alone, turning to kiss him again while you freed the button on his pants and slid the zipper down._

_When you pulled back to focus on helping him shed his jeans, he moaned softly, letting his head fall back as you gently slid his jeans from his hips, wary of his wound. You briefly debated about his boxers, but decided those had to go right now as well, since removing them once he was on the bed would be more difficult._

_You freed him from his boxers, his now-rigid erection springing free of the fabric which he kicked aside as soon as it hit the floor around his ankles._

_“Lie back, big guy,” you told him, gesturing with a nod toward the bed._

_Dean did as he was told, climbing onto the bed, albeit it a little slower than normal. He leaned against the pillows that lined the headboard, getting comfortable. Green eyes traced your every move as you shimmied out of your jeans and pulled your top over your head. You made a point to crawl toward him predatorily, straddling his legs and finally resting some of your weight on his thighs. You reached up then to release your hair from where it had been secured in a messy bun, shaking your head softly to let it fall down in loose waves over your shoulders._

_Dean bit his bottom lip, pupils dilating with need as he reached out to grip your hips with his fingers._

_You leaned forward, planting kisses along his jawline and down to his collarbone, all the while avoiding glancing along his abdomen where the gauze bandage protected his laceration. Dean’s fingers dug into the flesh at your hips in anticipation, his breathing quickening as you covered his mouth with your own and kissed the ever-loving hell out of him._

_You pulled back long enough to unfasten the strap on your bra, shrugging the shoulder straps off to free your breasts. You tossed the bra aside and watched Dean’s face as he took you in with his eyes. He didn’t move to fondle you like you expected. You found yourself wondering if he was in more pain than he’d been letting on. Because the alternative was that he just wasn’t feeling it tonight, and you didn’t want to believe that to be true._

_“You okay, big guy?” you asked him, taking his hands in yours and sliding them up to cup your breasts._

_“Huh? Yeah, I - I’m good. Real good, in fact,” Dean assured you, brushing his thumbs across your nipples lightly and biting his bottom lip._

_“How’s your pain?” you asked, not convinced._

_“It’s fine, baby. I swear. I’m not hurting.”_

_You frowned at him, but he twisted those full lips up into a smile that did more to wash away your doubt than anything he could have said. So you wrapped the fingers of one hand around his erection, squeezing gently and watching in satisfaction as his breath hitched at the contact._

 

_You teased him with your hand for a moment before raising up on your knees far enough to scoot forward. You rolled your hips enough to slide the satin fabric of your panties along the length of him. You leaned forward, grinding lightly against him as you kissed him again. When Dean broke the kiss you paused in your movements to study his face._

_“Hey,” you whispered. “If you’re worried that you can’t move well tonight, don’t be. I’m just going to take care of you.”_

_“It’s not … it’s not that.”_

_“What is it then?” You waited patiently for an answer. Dean glanced hesitantly toward the bedroom door and you instantly suspected what the problem was. “Is this about the fish?”_

_Dean gave you an apologetic shrug, looking absolutely torn. “It’s just that he’s out there all alone. What if he’s scared?”_

_“We’re in a literal bunker, Winchester. I think he’s safe.” But you could see the hesitation in those green eyes and you knew it was a losing battle. Damned medication side effects. “All right, I think we’re done here,” you conceded. Dean frowned like he was afraid you were upset. “It’s fine, honey,” you told him, smiling in spite of yourself. It wasn’t his fault he was hallucinating. “Maybe it’s for the best.”_

_Dean returned your smile, pulling you down with both hands to cup your face and kiss you with more passion than he’d done while you’d been grinding against him._

_You chose to forgo your bra but pulled your shirt back on, along with a pair of yoga pants from your closet. Dean opted for his comfortable pajama bottoms and a fresh t-shirt. The two of you were still sitting in the bunker library with J.P. in his water-less fish bowl when Sam returned home with Dean’s new medication._

_Movie night seemed the safest pastime that evening when it became clear that the side effects of the Penicillin were still going strong. Sam made popcorn while you got Dean and J.P. situated in the den. Dean insisted J.P. have a decent view of the TV, and after your third attempt at situating the glass bowl Dean was satisfied the imaginary fish was safe and happy. By then you were just reveling in the fact that you and Sam were going to give him so much shit when he finally came to his senses._

_Dean was fighting sleep when the movie ended around 10:30. You patted his knee affectionately, saying, “Come on, Winchester. Let’s get you to bed.”_

 

_Dean nodded, carefully moving to sit up. You knew the pain from the knife wound was slowing him down considerably and made a mental note to give him an Ibuprofen 800 once you got him to the bedroom._

_“Don’t forget J.P.,” you told him as you gathered up the blanket you’d been snuggled up with. You just wanted to avoid making another trip out here when he remembered he’d left the bowl behind._

_Dean frowned and rubbed his face with a hand before he glanced sideways over at the empty glass bowl. He stared at it, narrowing his eyes. But he wasn’t moving to pick it up._

_Sam sat up then, leaning forward to watch the different emotions that crossed over Dean’s face quickly. You bit back a smile, holding your breath and waiting._

_“Did … did I really think there was a-”_

_“A fish?” Sam offered, raising an amused eyebrow at his brother._

_Dean’s expression immediately changed from one of confusion to one of embarrassed defeat as he tucked his chin to his chest. “Ah shit….”_

_“Yeah. You did,” Sam added with a laugh that proved just how much he was enjoying Dean’s newfound realization that he’d been imagining things._

_You grinned, bumping Dean’s knee with your fist playfully. “Not just any fish,” you elaborated. “Jimmy Page was a_ magic _fish.”_

_“Oh my god,” Dean said, his exasperated sigh a hilarious mix of denial and amusement at his own expense. “I - I can’t even - I don’t know what … ”_

_Sam’s laughter was completely infectious, causing you to lose control and join him, cackling at the look on your husband’s face._

_Dean was covering his eyes with a hand now, shaking his head slightly._

 

_He cracked his fingers and peeked through the open space at the empty glass bowl sitting three feet away. He couldn’t help it and started laughing himself. “Shit,” he hissed as he tried to stop laughing. “Dammit. Don’t make me laugh. It hurts,” he managed, taking a deep breath and sobering up. But the smile never left his handsome face. “What the hell is wrong with me? Did I get hit with a curse or something that I don’t remember?”_

_“I’ll do you one better,” you offered, taking a deep breath to reign in your own fit of laughter. “You suffered some side effects from the first antibiotic I put you on.”_

_Dean blinked at you like he wasn’t convinced he was getting the whole story. “Wait, what?”_

_“The penicillin,” you elaborated. “Hallucinations aren’t a common side effect, but apparently you’re one of the lucky ones.”_

_“You’re serious, aren’t you.” It was more of a statement than a question, but you nodded for him. “Well hell, woman. Next time just give me some shrooms. At least those hallucinations are fun.”_

_Sam practically snorted. “You didn’t have fun during story time with J.P.? ‘Cuz that’s not what I saw.”_

_Dean gave him a bitch face and you got to your feet, bending low to kiss Dean’s forehead. “If you weren’t having fun it wasn’t lack of opportunity,” you told him. “You even turned down sex.”_

 

_If Dean looked startled before, he looked downright mortified now. “I - I didn’t-”_

_“Oh, but you did. All you had to do was lie back and let me do the rest, but J.P. was lonely out here in his bowl, and the rest is history.”_

 

_Sam was laughing so hard now he could hardly breathe, enjoying his brother’s dismay way too much to embarrassed by the subject matter._

_“I’ll make it up to you, baby,” Dean was saying as you headed for the door._

_“You sure as hell will,” you said with a smile as he got to his feet and followed you. “I talked you off a ledge when Sam squished your magic fish, after all. Once you’re all healed up you owe me dinner at that new restaurant near the hospital …_ and  _mind blowing sex.”_

_“You got it,” Dean said as he caught up with you in the hallway. He bent to kiss your neck softly, hitting that spot that makes your nerves tingle and your knee weak._

_“It’s a good thing you’re so adorable, Winchester,” you said with a smile as you opened up the door to your shared bedroom. “Even hopped up on penicillin.”_


	7. Chapter 7

“Okay, so the good news is the bottle of lamb’s blood isn’t dried up,” Dean announced as he closed the trunk of the car and locked it with the key.

“That’s one less obstacle in our way,” Sam said as he and Dean began crossing the street toward the little tourist information shop on the south side of town.

The sun was beginning to set, and running out of daylight just added to Dean’s growing anxiety.

“What if we’re not dealing with regular Djinn here?” he asked, finally giving voice to something that had been gnawing away at him since they’d watched the video on your phone. He hated the idea of you being trapped in a Djinn dream, but the at least regular Djinn dreams could be pleasant overall. “What if it’s those bastard offshoots that fill peoples dreams with fear?”

Sam didn’t want to think about you being surrounded by your worst fears any more than Dean did. His footsteps paused as he turned to face his brother. The look in Dean’s eyes was heartbreaking. “Look, Djinn are rare, so the offshoots would be scarce,” Sam answered. “I doubt that’s what we’re dealing with, but if it is we’ve got African Dream Root at the bunker,” he answered.. “One of us will go in after her. We’ve done it before. We can do it again. She can fend for herself, Dean. She’s tough as nails. She’ll fight like hell against any nightmare she faces.”

Dean wiped his face with a hand, shifting his weight. “God, I just - I can’t stand the thought … ”

“I know,” Sam told him. “Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” he added, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “We’ll know exactly what we’re dealing with when we find her. One step at a time.”

Dean nodded and Sam led the way into the small brick building that was severely in need of some upkeep.

“Hello gentlemen,” the elderly man at the small desk in the far corner of the room called out as they walked inside.

“Hello,” Sam greeted him in return.

“What can I do for you? Looking to see the local sights?” the man asked as he got to his feet and walked toward them, offering his hand.

“Yeah, actually,” Sam said, shaking the man’s hand before Dean did the same.

“You’ve come to the right place,” the man added, turning to gather a couple of pamphlets from the display shelf on the wall. “What brings you to town?”

“We’re photographers,” Sam elaborated. “We’re looking to take some stock photos. We have some very specific locations we’re in search of. We’re hoping maybe you can help point us in the right direction.”

“Stocks? You mean like Wall Street? ‘Cause you won’t find anything like that around-’”

“No,” Sam said patiently. “Not exactly. We sell images to companies for marketing purposes online. What we’re looking for are old buildings. Abandoned warehouses, old factories, old vacant homes even.”

The man frowned. “I can’t imagine why that stuff would help sell anything, but well, let me think…. It’s a small town. There are some old buildings, this one here is quite old, for example.”

“You don’t say,” Dean muttered, not quite under his breath enough to avoid a glaring reprimand from Sam.

“The Carnegie Research Library was built in 1912. They remodeled over fifteen years ago and now it’s used for genealogy and the historical society.”

“We’re more interested in abandoned places,” Dean added.

“There was a factory on the outskirts of town,” the man said slowly, piquing their interest once more. “Demolished it just last year. Something about a public health hazard and such.”

“What’s left of the building?” Sam questioned. “Are there any ruins still intact?”

“I’m afraid not. Nothing but small bits of rubble. It’s otherwise flattened. They cleared out all the big pieces of concrete. Recycled it all, I think, though I’m not sure how that works exactly… ”

“Caves,” Dean piped in. “What about caves?”

“Sure. You’ve got the Faris caves, but they’re over in Kanopolis.”

Sam and Dean shared a weighted glance.

“That’s what, about an hour from here?” Sam asked.

The man nodded. “About seventy miles, yeah.”

“Bet I can do it in half that time,” Dean said.

“What else can you tell us about the caves?” Sam asked.

The man turned away from them to walk back across the room to his desk. He opened up a drawer and pulled another pamphlet out, handing it to Dean. “Bit of a tourist attraction. Great historical site, if you ask me.”

Dean frowned as he opened the brochure and scanned the contents inside. “This doesn’t even look like a real cave. What the hell is this?”

“Technically they were carved out of the sandstone with a pickaxe by a coal miner from Colorado and his wife,” the man elaborated.

“Man made?” Sam asked, peering over Dean’s shoulder at the brochure. “How big are they? How deep?”

“Not big enough to hide in,” Dean said in frustration, closing the brochure and smacking Sam’s chest with it.

Sam took the brochure as Dean began pacing anxiously. “And you’re sure there are no other caves nearby?” Sam asked, trying like hell to keep the desperation out of his voice for Dean’s sake.

The man rubbed his chin with a hand, considering the question. “Plenty of caves in Kansas, but none close by. ‘Bout the closest thing you’d find around here would be a storm cellar.”

The man was obviously making a joke, but that didn’t stop Dean from pausing dead in his tracks. 

He locked eyes with his brother and muttered, “Son of a bitch.”

Sam thanked the slightly startled man for his time and followed a speed-walking Dean out the door and across the road to the car.

“Storm cellars…. Never occurred to me. God, I’m such an idiot. How the hell are we supposed to track down the right one?” Dean asked, clenching his jaw. “I know this is a small town, but it’s also freaking Kansas. They’re literally everywhere.”

“The Djinn still wouldn’t want to be seen. I imagine they’d go for a house that’s empty,” Sam said as he climbed in the passenger seat. He pulled out his phone and said, “I’ll check the real estate listings. See if I can filter the results to those with storm shelters.”

Dean started the car’s engine, but without a destination he only leaned his forehead against the steering wheel in frustration. After a moment he shifted gears and pulled back out onto the road, deciding that driving around and looking for ‘For Sale’ signs was better than just sitting there while Sam searched online.

The lack of daylight made the search somewhat difficult, but Dean stopped at two homes that were for sale, doing a quick scan of the yards on foot while Sam kept searching on his phone for listings.The first home didn’t have a storm cellar, and the second home’s cellar was clear, which he’d only learned after picking the lock.

Frustrated, he climbed back in the car only for Sam to exclaim, “Hey, I think I’ve got something.”

Dean couldn’t help but let his hopes raise a little at the excitement in Sam’s voice. “I called an agent on this website. She gave me one listing that might fit. It’s not for sale, but it used to be. When the owner couldn’t get the price they were asking for they started renting it out as an Airbnb. It’s got a shelter, and it’s on the edge of town. No neighbors immediately nearby, and it’s not currently being rented.”

“What’s the address?”

It didn’t take long to locate the home the realtor had told Sam about. It was at the end of a long road. The lack of neighbors and streetlights did, in fact, make it a great hiding place for a pack of Djinn. Dean just hoped they were right as he cut the Impala’s engine and coasted in a ways, pulling over on the shoulder of the road about five hundred yards shy of the house.  

After a moment of preparation at the trunk of the car, they were both armed with flashlights and silver blades coated in lamb’s blood. Using the moonlight to their advantage, they walked quickly along the fence that separated the roadside from the large field to the west.

There were no cars, or Jeeps, for that matter, parked nearby. The place looked empty, but then again, that’s what Dean would have done if he’d been trying to set a trap.

“They’d have to be stupid to park at the house,” Sam whispered as they approached. “They’d have ditched their vehicles somewhere else, right?”

Dean sighed. “Or they’re just not here.”

“Even if they’re not, it doesn’t mean she isn’t,” Sam added trying his best to build some hope into the situation.

“They wouldn’t leave her alone,” Dean whispered. “If she’s here, someone stayed behind to guard her, and if that’s the case they’ll be expecting us.”

“Well, we’re ready for them,” Sam answered.

As they neared the house Dean signaled for Sam to head around one direction while he went the other. They met up at the back of the property and Sam mouthed the word ‘cellar’ and pointed back the way he’d come from. Dean nodded and Sam crept just behind him up the back porch.

Dean wanted nothing more than to kick the door in and turn the house upside down, but if you really were here somewhere he needed to keep the element of surprise.

So he picked the lock while Sam kept watch. He looked to Sam, waiting for the ‘go ahead’ nod before he turned the doorknob and eased the door open. Sam crossed the threshold, bloody blade in hand, and Dean on his heels.

They moved from room to room in silence, clearing them one at a time. There was no sign of you, or anyone else for that matter.

The home looked spotless and ready to rent out at a moment’s notice.

When they were certain the place was empty they met up at the back door again and headed back outside. 

The cellar wasn’t locked, which was just enough of a sign to raise a glimmer of hope in Dean’s mind.

Dean held up the hand with his flashlight, silently counting down from three with his fingers. Sam threw open the cellar door. Dean hopped over the lip, flashlight beam lighting the way as he charged down the cement stairs.

The Djinn that met him at the bottom step was just startled enough by his rampaging approach that he got the drop on her, pitching his blade through her chest and yanking it back with a sickening slurping sound. Thick, dark blood poured from her mouth and she dropped to the ground on the rug. She was still twitching when he stepped over her into the narrow room that made up the cellar.

Two more Djinn were moving toward him. Sam was by his side now and took the one on the left. Dean dodged the other who had been perching on the top of a bunk bed against the wall nearby. The creature leaped at him, but Dean spun out of the way just in time to prevent it’s would-be poisonous touch on his arm.

Dean didn’t waste any time turning to scan the rest of the space. His heart clenched when he caught sight of you. You were lying on the ground at the far end of the cellar next to a refrigerator.

He called your name as he spun to meet the Djinn head on, dodging a left hook. The creature stumbled forward and Dean took advantage of the momentum to spin and slam him face first into the wall. Dean pinned him with his weight, sending another desperate glance in your direction. You weren’t moving.

“Sam!” he hollered as he plunged his blade into the Djinn’s back, twisting upward toward its heart for good measure. The creature screamed, twitched, and went slack before Dean pulled his blade out and stepped back, letting it collapse to the ground.

“I’m good!” Sam finally called back.

Dean hoped that was true as he rushed toward you. He fell to his knees on the large rug, taking your face in his hands.

Sam’s chest huffed with a breath as he pushed the other Djinn off and away from him. 

A sickening sound escaped it’s throat while it died and Sam turned to find Dean bent over your unmoving form. “Dean! Is she-”

Dean was pressing his fingers to your carotid, nodding. “She’s alive … barely.” Dean pulled his jacket off and covered you with it. “We gotta get her out of here.” 

That’s when they heard it, both their heads snapping around just in time to see another Djinn bounding down the stairway with a flaming glass bottle in hand.

It’s maniacal laughter reverberated off the cellar’s concrete walls, and time seemed to slow down as Dean realized he recognized this one. This Djinn was the one who had been laughing and holding your slack jaw in the video Sam had found on your phone. 

Dean’s blood boiled at the sight of the creature, his vision going red as he jumped to his feet and planted himself between you and the Djinn.

Sam did the same, brandishing his knife. But the Djinn didn’t get close enough to engage in hand to hand combat, instead tossing the Molotov on the ground in the space between. The glass shattered on impact, spilling fluid with flames licking along the surface.

It only took a second for the fire to spread from the base of the stairs and engulf the sheets hanging off the lower bunk near the cellar door.

Dean and Sam shared a panicked glance as the Djinn ran back up the stairs to safety.

Dean’s heart dropped into his stomach as he realized this had been the plan all along. To use you as bait to lure he and Sam into the cellar so they could burn you all alive.

 


	8. Chapter 8

_“Bobby just texted to say they’re ten minutes out,” Sam announced as he walked into the mess hall where you and Dean were working furiously to finish preparing Christmas Eve dinner._

_You’d invited Bobby, Jody, and the girls to visit for the holidays. You were beyond happy to have people you all considered to be family coming to stay, but between the crazy week you’d had at the hospital and the fact that Dean and Sam had just gotten back from a hunt two days ago, you were cutting it close with the preparation._

_“Any word from Cas yet?” Sam asked._

_“He ought to be here any minute,” Dean answered._

_You slid past Dean to peek in the oven. “Ham should be done in about twenty.”_

_“That’s perfect,” Dean said. “My roasted potatoes are ready to go. Here, taste this … ” He stuck a fork into a piece of seasoned potato and held it out for you._

_You took the bite of potato he offered, humming appreciatively as you chewed and swallowed. “Mmmm…. Is that nutmeg I’m tasting?”_

_“Yep, and thyme.”_

_“God, that’s amazing.”_

_Dean smirked and turned his head to look at Sam. “That’s what she said.”_

_Sam rolled his eyes and you just shook your head._

_“He’s your brother,” you told him with a shrug. You took a pile of plates from a cupboard and handed them to Sam. “You’re on table duty,” you said, adding the tablecloth and a small stack of napkins on top of the plates he was holding. “We’ll need glasses and silverware. Oh, and grab a couple of hot plates, would you?”_

_“He won’t know how to set a fancy table,” Dean called out over his shoulder._

_Sam scoffed, feigning insult, but you weren’t convinced Dean was wrong. “Google it,” you told Sam as your gave him a gentle push on the shoulder toward the war room._

_You stirred the eggnog you’d been mixing one more time and then poured a portion of it out into a smaller pitcher before adding the rum to the punch bowl._

_You used a spoon to take a sip, pleased with the results._

_“I still don’t know about this raw egg beverage,” Dean muttered as he watched you._

_“That’s because you’ve never tried the real deal - home made.”_

_“All right, baby. If you say so,” Dean said doubtfully._

_“You’ll see, Winchester,” you told him as you lifted the punch bowl and carried it out. Sam had the red, white and black plaid tablecloth spread out and the plates in place on top. You pretended not to notice the fact that he’d been obviously looking something up on his phone when you walked in behind him, which he quickly tucked into his pocket, clearing his throat awkwardly._

_You set the punch bowl out and he followed you back into the mess hall to retrieve silverware while you carried out a bowl of cranberry sauce and the small pitcher of non-alcoholic eggnog. “Honey, can you check on the rolls?” you called out to Dean as you walked away._

_“10-4,” he answered._

_You left Sam to figure out the silverware configuration and went to retrieve a lighter for the candles. He was finishing up the last place setting when you walked back in and began lighting candles. You had a few tall candles on the war room table - the only large enough in the bunker to comfortably seat all of you together._

_You took a step back to gaze around the room, admiring the work you’d done to brighten the place up for Christmas. The pine garlands that lined the rail in the crow’s nest and the stairs were adorned with plaid bows that matched the flannel tablecloth._

_The Virginia Pine the boys had brought home with them yesterday after Dean insisted he was going to ‘cut down a real life Christmas tree, if it’s the last thing I do, dammit,’ stood to the right of the short steps into the library. Dean had insisted on decorating the tree himself late last night while you’d been putting the finishing touches on the rest of the decor, although he had enlisted Sam’s help for the higher branches in the end._

__

_You’d even managed to sneak a couple of candid shots on your phone of the two of them placing ornaments and bickering lightly in the way they always do. You wondered how long it would take them both to forgive you if you used the photos to make Christmas cards next year. The tree had turned out beautiful, even if you’d doubted their skills when you’d turned in last night while they were still working._

_Dean had already made coffee when you’d woken up this morning, and from the looks of it he’d been moving ornaments whose placement he still wasn’t happy with when you found him in the war room. To your amusement - not surprise - you saw that he’d placed a close-up picture of Castiel’s face on the gold star that adorned the top of the tree._

_He’d caught you staring at it. “Went back and forth between a star and an angel tree topper,” he said. “Then I was like ‘Hey, why not just do both?’”_

_“Hard to argue with that logic,” you said with a grin. “Can’t wait to see what Cas says when he sees it.”_

__

_“I know, right?!” Dean said with a laugh that burst out of him._

_“Anyone who says you can’t have a magical Christmas without children around has obviously never spent a holiday with you, Winchester,” you told him as you hugged his side._

_“I’m going to head to the garage to watch for them,” Sam said, calling you back to the present._

_“Sounds good,” you told him. “I’ll go check on Dean in the kitchen.”_

_Dean was pulling the ham from the oven when you walked in and went to the sink to wash your hands._

_“Am I late?” you heard a familiar voice ask, prompting you to glance over your shoulder to see Cas standing in the doorway._

__

_“Just in time, buddy,” Dean answered. “In fact your timing is perfect. Would you pass me a carving knife?”_

_“Hey Cas,’” you greeted him as he retrieved the knife for Dean. “I may not eat,” Cas said to you both as he handed Dean the knife and Dean set to work carving the meat, “but I do appreciate your wanting me here to celebrate.”_

_“Of course we want you here,” you told him. “It wouldn’t be Christmas without you.”_

_“Yeah,” Dean added. “You’re family. Like it or not, you’re stuck with us.”_

_A small smile tugged at the corner of the angel’s mouth then as he watched Dean work to place the ham in slices on a serving platter._

_You placed the rolls into a bowl, grabbed the butter dish and carried it all to the table. Before you’d finished you heard Jody’s voice calling out to you from the Crow’s nest. You glanced up, waving as she started down the stairs, Bobby, Claire and Sam in tow behind her._

__

_You met her at the bottom, embracing her in a tight hug._

_“Glad you made it safely,” you told her. “The roads are terrible out there.”_

_“We’ve seen worse,” she assured you. “Alex sends her love, but she got stuck working at the hospital.”_

_“I know all about that,” you said sympathetically. “Barely managed not to get stuck doing that myself.” The two of you side stepped so Claire could come down the last few rungs to the bottom. “Hey gorgeous,” you said to her, not letting her past without a big hug as well._

_“God, it smells so good in here,” Claire said, practically whining. “My stomach is growling.”_

_“Good,” you told her, holding her out at arm’s length to get a good look at her. “There’s way to much food. Dean’s been slaving away all day. It’s like he’s excited or something.”_

_“Dean’s cooking?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “How worried should I be?”_

_“Hey now,” Dean called out as he approached. “You’re not getting any of my spiced cherry pie with that attitude, little lady.”_

__

_Claire grinned and took a step toward him, wrapping her arms around him in a big hug. “Just promise you’re not going to give me food poisoning, old man.”_

_“Might give you a lecture on respecting your elders,” he teased before kissing the top of her head._

_“Good luck with that,” Bobby added dryly._

 

__

_You smiled at him, hugging him next._

_“Hello, Claire,” Cas said, prompting Claire to give him a light punch on the shoulder, but her smile to him was warm and sincere._

_“Hey Cas. Long time no see.”_

_Dean hugged Jody and Bobby both before clapping his hands together once loudly. “What do you say we eat before the food gets cold.”_

_“Talked me into it,” Bobby agreed before you all moved to your places at the table while Dean carried the ham in._

_Dean stood at the head of the table, holding his glass in one hand. “God, it’s so good to everyone here together like this,” he said, raising his glass. “To family,” he toasted._

_“To family,” you all repeated in unison._

_Dean beamed and Sam gave you a small smile from his seat at the other end of the table as the happy commotion of passing food and filling plates began._

_“How many shirts did you have to steal from the guys’ closets to make these bows?” Claire teased, gesturing with a nod toward the garlands on the stair rail and pretending not to see the chastising look Jody threw in her direction._

__

_“I didn’t know this place could feel so homey and festive,” Jody added, glancing around the war room in admiration._

_“Sam and I can’t take credit for any of that,” Dean stated. “Looks great though, doesn’t it?”_

_“It sure does. Well done,” she told you._

_“Thank you,” you said, smiling. “But the tree was all these two.” You waved a thumb back toward Sam and Dean._

__

_Dean smiled, folding his arms across his chest proudly. “Chopped it down myself.”_

_Bobby gave him a sideways glance then. “You want me to fetch that gold star on top and stick it on your forehead, boy?”_

_You weren’t sure if Dean saw the playful wink Bobby gave you, but you bit back a smile, realizing just how much you’d missed the grumpy hunter._

__

_“Why is my face on top of the tree?” Cas asked, making everyone go silent, heads turning to inspect the star on the tree closer before collective laughter rang out._

_Dean just smiled and cocked his head. “Merry Christmas, Cas.”_

_Dinner went off without a hitch._ _Everyone ate too much, and then had a helping of Dean’s spiced cherry pie for desert, despite the fact that they were already full._

__

_Cas and Sam cleared the table while you and Dean helped everyone carry their things in from the garage to get settled for the night._

_Later that evening found all of you sitting around the table again in the war room, telling stories and drinking. You’d even let Claire sneak a glass of the real eggnog from the mess hall, giving her a little wink when she realized she’d been caught in the act._

_“I won’t tell Bobby if you don’t,” you said to her with a smile._

_“Bobby?” she laughed. “I’ve got him wrapped around my finger. I still don’t think he knows how to handle having girls around. Alex and I have really thrown him for a loop. That grumpy old man thing is a good act, but he’s a giant teddy bear.”_

__

_You grinned, shrugging in agreement._

_“Now Jody, she’s another story. She could kick my ass. But thanks for this.” She held her glass of eggnog up and you nodded._

_“You’re welcome.”_

_“God, I almost forgot. We’ve got to pass out the pajamas.”_

_Entertained by her sudden enthusiasm for what was sure to be a fairly predictable few minutes of opening pajamas, you followed her back into the war room to join everyone else._

_“They’re in the black bag at the bottom of the bed in whatever room my stuff ended up in,” Jody told Claire when she asked where the Christmas Eve presents were._

_“Jody, you didn’t -” Dean said, overhearing._

_“Oh, but I did,” Jody responded with a grin._

_“It’s tradition,” Claire stated, as if that explained everything.”_

_Dean and Sam both glanced at Bobby, but he just shrugged and said, “Don’t look at me.”_

_Claire set her eggnog down in front of you, apparently for safe-keeping, and disappeared in search of the pajamas._

_A few minutes later everyone was holding their prospective wrapped bundles tied with ribbon._

_“I should warn you, the girls did most of the shopping this year,” Jody said. “Why don’t you go first?” she encouraged, looking at you._

_You set down your drink and pulled the ribbon from your gift, tearing the red and silver paper. Inside was a satin pajama top and bottom set in rose gold. You lifted the top into your hands to inspect it, holding it up against you and smiling at the feel of the fabric. Dean couldn’t help himself, reaching out to brush his fingers along the satin fabric as well._

_“Ooooh, soft….” he mused._

_“You’re welcome,” Claire said to Dean with a snarky grin._

__

_“Thank you,” you said, including her and Jody and Bobby with a sweeping gaze._

_Jody smiled and turned to Sam. “You next.”_

_Sam opened his gift, producing a pair of black and white plaid pajama bottoms and a black cotton tee which a picture of a Moose on the front. Along the top of the shirt spanned the words, ‘The Moose is loose.’ Sam chuckled as he read it, turning it around so the rest of you could see._

__

_“They only make Moose stuff when you buy clothes your size,” Claire said as she_ _snapped a pic of him holding up the shirt on her phone, presumably to share with Alex. “Quite fitting though.”_

__

_“Thanks,” Sam said in a tone that was only half smartass. He grinned and set the pajamas next to him, looking up at Dean expectantly._

__

_“Me next?” Dean said, rubbing his hands together excitedly._

_“Go for it,” Claire told him. She looked at you and added, “You’re going to like this.”_

__

_You watched as Dean tore open the paper, pushing the ribbon aside._

_When he lifted the black and red plaid piece up it kept on going and going. You laughed out loud as you realized it was a long-sleeved full-length onesie._

_“Wait for it,” Claire said quietly to you, her eyes still trained on Dean as she readied her phone for a picture._

__

_“Long johns?” he said happily, getting to his feet to inspect them._

_That was when you saw the backside, complete with trap door and lettering that read, ‘Bear Cheeks.’ Two opposite facing bear behinds could be seen, standing rear-facing - one for each cheek._

__

_The laughter that broke out then rang through the bunker and you found yourself wiping happy tears from your eyes as Dean held the garment up to himself, reaching down to fiddle with the trap door opening._

_Bobby laughed harder than everyone else combined, his face turning red. Sam clapped Bobby on the back and said, “It’s going to be hard to top that one next year.”_

_“Oh no,” Jody said as she tried to compose herself. “Not going to even try.” She gazed at Claire who was grinning victoriously and added, “You girls are in charge of pjs from here on out.”_

__

_Castiel went next, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way the angel almost gingerly removed the decorative paper from his gift, revealing a fabric inside that matched the tan trench coat he was constantly sporting almost exactly._

_“Thought you could use a little change,” Claire explained as Castiel lifted the garment up to for closer inspection. It turned out to be a bathrobe, which Claire insisted he try on. “Look, even if you don’t sleep that doesn’t mean you can’t be more comfortable in the evenings and early morning.”_

_Cas looked skeptical at best as Claire gripped one of his arms and pulled him to his feet. She helped him shrug his trench coat off, not giving him much choice in the matter. The rest of you shared surprised glances but didn’t say anything to spoil the moment as Claire held out the robe for him to stick one arm in a sleeve, then the next._

_The angel stood there wearing the nighttime-comfort version of his actual trenchcoat, still garbed in his usual slacks, white shirt and tie beneath it._

_Claire folded her arms and gazed at him approvingly. “Do a little turn,” she prompted._

_“A - a turn?” Cas_ _asked, his expression borderline terrified at just the mention of the idea._

__

_“Yeah, so everyone can see.” And before he could refuse, Claire was gripping one of his shoulders and gently turning him around in a circle._

_“Hey, will you look at that?” Dean said with a chuckle when Cas turned his back toward the two of you. And sure enough, you looked up to see a set of black feathered wings had been embroidered on the back of the robe._

_“I don’t know, Castiel, bit of a stretch from your usual attire isn’t it?” Bobby said sarcastically._

_“No one else would get away with this,” Dean muttered under his breath, bumping your arm with his elbow lightly and watching Claire._

_You hummed in agreement as Cas awkwardly thanked Claire and Jody and Bobby before the tension melted from him completely when Claire put her arms around his neck in a hug._

__

_You saw a smile tug at the corner of Cas’s mouth as he hugged her back._

_You wondered what Dean was up to when he walked away as Bobby opened his warm navy blue robe, and Jody opened her wine colored satin pjs that were the same style as your own. Claire opened hers last, admitting that she’d picked them out herself when she revealed a matching skull print black pajama bottom set with a white tee adorned with one large skull with heart eyes._

_“Those seem more appropriate for Halloween,” Cas was telling Claire as he eyed her pajamas on her lap._

_“No way,” Claire defended. “I’ll wear this all year round.”_

_As if on cue, Dean suddenly came sliding into the room again, this time on socked feet, sporting his new ‘Bear Cheek’ long johns. “Heeeyyyy!” he called out joyfully._

_You watched as your goofball husband struck several exaggerated model-esque poses, making your stomach hurt with laughter before he turned around and bent over, his hand going toward the flap in a determined sort of way that had the group of you collectively yelling out, ‘Noooo!”_

_He straightened and turned, pointing at Claire and saying, “Walked right into that.”_

_“Keep it locked up, Winchester. God, I thought I was going to have to stab my own eyes out there for a second,” Claire said dramatically._

_“You and me both,” Bobby and Sam said in unison, which just made everyone laugh harder. Claire smacked Dean on the arm as he sat down again._

__

__ _Dean turned you, grinning. Then he looked down at the satin pajamas in your lap and his expression turned contemplative. “Admit it, you’re jealous,” he teased._

_“Ha! Says Mr. Bear Cheeks,” you said as you grinned at him and took another sip of your eggnog._

__

_You all stayed up late talking and laughing. You may not have been able to visit your parents and your brother and his family for the holiday, but you were still with family right there in the bunker._

_Christmas morning found you all exchanging gifts over coffee before enjoying a bacon-centric breakfast Dean prepared, along with Bobby’s help._

__

_To Claire’s great delight, Cas had even worn his tan bathrobe all through the night. She even managed to convince him to take a selfie with her, although he didn’t stick out his tongue and throw the horns like she did when they posed._

__

_After breakfast Dean joined you in your bedroom for a video call with your parents, your brother, and his wife Lindsey. Little Savannah and Jaxon happily showed off their presents to you on the screen, squealing and giggling the entire time._

_Dean even modeled his trapdoor long-johns without prompting, causing your mom and Lindsey to laugh so hard they were wiping at their eyes. You missed them all terribly, but the video chat made your heart lighter - and Christmas complete - before you and Dean joined everyone else in the library to play cards and enjoy each other’s company._


	9. Chapter 9

Dean bent low and scooped you up in his arms, pushing aside thoughts of how light and fragile you seemed in this state.

Sam had removed his jacket and was trying to beat back the growing flames, but the lower bunk was already engulfed and the top bunk was catching fire now. The gasoline from the glass bottle - Dean could smell it now - had thrown a line of flames just before the stairway. There was no way around them.

“Sam! Go!” he yelled to his brother.

Sam whirled around to face Dean, beads of sweat pouring down his forehead in the firelight. He seemed to instantly realize that he couldn’t have Dean running up the stairs first. There was still at least one Djinn alive outside, if it was sticking around long enough to enjoy the bonfire. And Dean had his hands full carrying you, leaving him defenseless.

Sam nodded and glanced at the base of the stairway and the flames that had grown almost as high as his knees. He flung his half-burnt jacket on the ground to dampen the heat and ran through. Dean was right behind him, choking now on the thickening smoke that burned his lungs.

They climbed the dozen steps only to find that the Djinn had locked the cellar door, effectively trapping them inside.

Sam swore loudly as he shoved against the awkwardly angled wooden doors. They held firm, not giving more than an inch and rebounding back. Dean turned just far enough to glance back down the stairs behind them to see the flames growing in the cellar. The cement steps meant they were safe from the actual fire for now, if for no other reason than the lack of good burning fuel under their feet, but Dean realized with a sinking hopelessness that even if the flames didn’t kill them quickly, smoke inhalation would. And the smoke was rising.

He moved back down a few stairs, hating that he was carrying you closer to the flames and the smoke as he did so. He crouched down and gently laid you out awkwardly on the steps, Sam bending to help him hold your head up as Dean repositioned his jacket to cushion your head.

Then he and Sam stood side by side and rammed their shoulders into the cellar door in unison. Dean couldn't be sure if the cracking sound he heard was a sign of weakness in the cellar door, or in his shoulder, but he grit his teeth against the pain and steeled himself for round two as he and Sam repeated the motion again.

Dean’s tongue and throat were thick and dry. He coughed and fought back panic while he and Sam repeatedly rammed into the cellar door. At last, enough of the wood gave way to allow Sam to jab an elbow through the portion that held the lock on one end. He broke pieces of the door until he was able to throw it open. Sam wiped his eyes with his shirt sleeve, trying to clear away the moisture and the burning sensation brought on by the smoke that blurred his vision.

Dean was already gathering you into his arms again. Sam led the way, bursting out of the stairway and into the fresh night air, smoke billowing out behind him. He only caught a glimpse of his brother carrying you through the cellar door behind him before a another motion caught his eye and he turned to see a Djinn charging from his left.

Sam threw his blade up, slashing at the creature and trying to lead it far enough away to allow Dean to keep moving away from the house. Sam waited for the Djinn to get just close enough to him before using one of his long legs in an attempt to trip the creature. The Djinn quickly spun, almost avoiding Sam’s reach, but Sam managed to hook it at the ankle and the Djinn shrieked as it flailed in an attempt to catch itself as it hit the ground. Sam stamped down on the creature’s lower back with his boot to hold it in place, belly down, while he drove his blade through it’s back, impaling it in the heart.

He'd yet to pull his blade free when Sam heard Dean cry out from behind him. Sam looked over his shoulder just in time to see another Djinn, a female this time. She grabbed Dean by the shoulder from behind, trying to spin him around to face her.

In an effort to shield your body with his own, Dean dropped to his knee on the ground instead, laying you on the grass and letting his momentum carry him as he rolled over to the side. He grabbed his blade with his free hand, turning onto his back to meet the creature.

She’d mistaken his move for a stumble, underestimating the angle at which she was leaning over him. Dean saw the brief window of opportunity and jabbed his blade upward through her rib cage, twisting and watching the blood pour from her chest onto his own shirt as the Djinn’s full weight came on top of him. He grunted in exertion, using both hands to shove her away, causing her body to roll onto the grass opposite where you were lying unconscious.

Sam had pulled his own blade from the first Djinn and was on his feet now. “Dean! You good?”

“Yeah,” Dean grunted, rolling toward you once again and hoping he hadn’t hurt you when he’d brought you to the ground.

Sam scanned their surroundings quickly. “I think we’re clear,” he told Dean.

Dean coughed, sitting back on his heels as he gazed at the smoke billowing from the cellar.

“We - we can’t leave ‘em out here like this. Someone will see….”

Sam nodded and bent down, gripping the ankle of the Djinn he’d killed and dragging it back toward the cellar door to burn it in the fire.

Dean watched him go, unable and unwilling to leave your side for even a moment to help dispose of the bodies. Sam emerged from the cellar again shortly, retrieving the female Djinn’s body next. When he emerged from the thick smoke for the last time, coughing and stumbling, he made his way over toward his brother, collapsing to his knees in the grass next to him.

“You’re good, Sammy,” Dean said, putting a hand on Sam’s shoulder in worry. “Just breathe for a bit.”

Sam’s chest heaved as he relished the fresh air, willing away the pain in his throat and his lungs as he pulled himself together. “Let’s go,” he managed, getting to his feet.

Dean pulled the car keys from his pocket and tossed them to Sam. Sam took off on foot as quickly as he could move to retrieve the Impala. Dean had cleared the yard and was nearing the end of the long driveway with you in his arms when Sam braked, put the car in park, and jumped out to open the back door for him.

Dean carefully maneuvered you both into the backseat, laying you down and resting your head in his lap. He checked your pulse again. It was so weak.

“Grab the med kit,” he told Sam.

“What she needs is the antidote,” Sam said. “Nothing in the med kit is going to-”

“You don't think I know that?” Dean fired back. “Just get me the damn kit.” He cradled your head against his chest, brushing his fingers along your cheek as Sam disappeared around the back of the car.

Then he felt it, something on the side of your neck he hadn’t noticed in the poor cellar lighting. It was a shunt, one the Djinn had clearly been using to feed from you. Dean swore as he removed the needle, sliding it out and tossing it outside. Blood trickled along your throat in a thin line and he pressed his palm there to slow the bleeding.

“Damnit, sweetheart … you hold on for me. Don't believe whatever bullshit you're seeing in your head. You gotta fight to get back to me.”

Sam produced the medical kit, handing it to Dean before he climbed behind the wheel and put the car in gear.

Sam drove fast enough to warrant a speeding ticket if he got caught while Dean reached into the kit with one hand, rummaging around until he found a bandage. He tore the wrapper open with his teeth and secured the bandage on the tender skin of your throat where the needle had been.

When he reached back into the kit for a second time he felt smooth leather at his fingertips. He pulled the item out, looking down at the little bound book you'd made - medical cliff notes, as Sam had deemed them. He opened it up, scanning the table of contents you'd created in the first few pages.

God, you were such a hopelessly adorable nerd, Dean thought fondly as his eyes darted back and forth, searching. And there it was…. Blood loss.

He was mildly aware of Sam making a phone call in the front seat, trying to track down some of the antidote as he flipped to the corresponding page and scanned the signs and symptoms you'd listed there.

Pale, cold or clammy skin … weak pulse … rapid, shallow breathing ... rapid heart rate … loss of consciousness….

Those signs, without you there to handle the situation, warranted a trip to the emergency room.

Poison aside, he had no way of knowing just how much blood the Djinn had taken from you. Dean closed his eyes for a brief second and tried to imagine the situation being reversed. If this were Sam or him… what would you do in this very moment to help them?

You'd keep a close eye on the situation until you had a cure. Try to treat the symptoms just to buy some time, if nothing else.

Dean reached into the med kit again and his fingers closed around your stethoscope. He pulled it out, putting on the ear pieces. It was strange being on this end of the instrument. He much preferred it the other way around.

God, if only he'd gotten to you sooner….

He slid the bell of the stethoscope down your shirt, tucking it just inside the fabric of your bra, which helped hold it in place a little.

The sluggish whooshing sound of your heart working filled his ears. The dull thud of each lagging beat echoed a painful truth, carving a bottomless pit into his stomach. When he opened his mouth to speak no words came out. He had to swallow thickly and try  
again. “Her heart’s beating real slow, Sammy.”

Sam met Dean’s gaze in the rear view mirror and saw the absolute devastation in his brother's eyes as he listened to your heart. Sam pressed harder still on the gas pedal.

Dean moved the bell of the stethoscope and listened to you breathe. There wasn't anything specific about the sound that bothered him, but he felt like something wasn’t quite right.

“Anything helpful in her notes?” Sam asked as he watched Dean take off the stethoscope in the mirror.

Dean sighed. “There's plenty here about blood loss, but not all of it seems to fit. Her heartbeat isn't rapid like you'd expect. It's scary slow.”

“Maybe that's the Djinn poison, then.”

Dean brushed his thumb over your cheek tenderly, considering Sam's words. “If that's the case they must have hit her with a massive dose of it.”

“Maybe they were using her strictly as bait and weren't even bothered to feed from her much. We know they were using her to get to us.”

Sam didn't have to see the way Dean physically flinched at his statement to know how painful it was for his brother to hear it. Situations just like this were exactly why Dean hadn’t wanted you hunting to begin with.

Dean understood now. It made sense that the Djinn weren't going to want you to survive long. He also knew that meant you didn't have much time. “If that’s true we can't take her to the hospital,” he thought out loud. “They won't be able to solve the real problem. In fact, it'll just make it harder for us-”

“To get the antidote in her when we find it,” Sam finished for him in agreement.

“Tell me we can get our hands on some.”

Sam glanced at Dean in the rear view mirror again, saying, “I've got an idea.”

Dean didn't point out that Sam didn't sound nearly as confident as he'd hoped. “God, Sammy. How the hell did I let this happen?”

“You didn't let anything happen,” Sam told him. “We can't be everywhere all the time. She knows how to handle herself, but people get hurt. Hell, we get hurt all the time.”

“That's different. I don't mind when I get hurt.”

“She does,” Sam said. Then, in response to the look Dean gave him, he added, “What? I'm just saying this is how she feels when you're hurt.” Dean’s face softened and he lifted your hand, gripping it and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss there. “I'll get you back to the bunker,” Sam added, as if reading Dean's mind. “You can keep her safe there while I round up the antidote.”

Dean continued scanning your notes, looking for anything to help stabilize you until they could get the antidote. He was determined to have some semblance of a plan in place for when he got you home.

While he studied, he kept a hand on your chest, feeling the shallow motion of your breathing that was enough to tell him you were still alive.

The miles and minutes passed slowly as Sam drove. The brothers had fallen silent, Dean reading and re-reading as the hum of the highway beneath Baby's tires thrummed along in the background.

They hadn't yet reached home when the Impala suddenly made a terrible knocking sound - one that gave Dean the awful sensation of his entire world bottoming out.

“No, no, no….” Dean pleaded, his voice growing in volume with each repetition of the word as he frantically looked out the back windows in an attempt to gauge their location. He hadn't been paying attention, carried away in his studying and his relentless monitoring of your condition.

Sam had let off the gas and was casting panicked glancing at Dean in the rearview mirror. “I don't know what's-”

“Goddammit,” Dean growled as Sam pulled over to the side of the road. “We don't have time for this.”

“We're getting close,” Sam said. “Maybe fifteen minutes out.”

“It sounds like the transmission. Don't cut the engine,” Dean instructed. “Pop the hood and come hold her for me. I need to take a look.”

Sam did as Dean asked, propping the hood open quickly and sliding in on the backseat, gathering you in his arms to rest your head on his lap so Dean could slip out the other door.

“Don't you let her heart stop beating on us, you hear me?”

Sam's eyes grew wide at Dean's statement. He had no idea how his brother meant for him to prevent such a thing, but he pressed his fingers to your neck to keep tabs on your pulse. Dean hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said it was scary slow.

Sam swallowed hard as he studied your face in the soft glow of the moonlight streaming through the car window. All the while his brother's cursing could be heard over the occasional knocking of the Impala's engine. After a long, drawn-out moment, Dean returned, gesturing for Sam to swap him places again.

“We gonna make it?” Sam asked as he climbed back in behind the steering wheel.

“We'd better make it, or she won't,” Dean said as he cradled you to close to him again.

And with the finality of that statement hanging in the air, Sam drove on, praying to anyone who was listening that the car would get you all home safely like she'd done so many times before.

Dean swallowed hard, hand pressed to your chest again to feel the motion of your breathing and the weak flutter of your heartbeat against his palm.


	10. Chapter 10

Two seconds after Dean had you safely on the exam table in the infirmary he was telling Sam to go after the Djinn poison antidote.

“Take her truck,” he insisted. “The keys are-”

“I know. I've got it,” Sam told him. “I'll hurry. Hang tight, and just-”

“Keep her alive,” Dean stated. “Yeah, I know.”

Sam sighed. “Well, that, and I was going to say don't do anything stupid.”

Dean was already pulling supplies from a cupboard when Sam left the infirmary on a mission. Dean removed your extra layer, tossing the button up shirt to the ground across the infirmary.

He hooked a vitals monitor stand with his foot, rolling it closer and flipping on the power switch on the back of the unit. Then he attached the clip to your finger before wrapping a blood pressure cuff around your arm.

He knew how to do it, he'd seen you do it numerous times, and even tried it out himself once or twice, but he felt cumbersome handling the equipment compared to the confident, experienced way you always did.

It took a moment of fiddling with the display but he sighed in relief when the blood pressure cuff began inflating and your pulse started blipping out a line across the screen. The accompanying beeps filled the air, sounding out your heartbeat, which was still just so goddamn slow.

45 beats per minute….. According to your notes, your normal resting heart rate was 65 bpm.

Your blood pressure came in at 94/60. Dean swore as he gazed at the reading, rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. Your pulse ox was only 88, and Dean knew that was low, too. He glanced briefly at the notes in the little leather-bound book again to confirm the correct ratio before he adjusted the flow of oxygen in the nearby tank and fitted the mask over your nose and mouth.

Your skin was cool and clammy when he pressed his lips to your forehead. “I don’t suppose you want to open those beautiful eyes and tell me how to help you,” he said with a sigh as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. You just looked so fragile lying there on the table, unmoving. He'd never seen you like this. It was completely unnerving.

Dean took a breath to pull his focus in. The closest thing he had to your doctor mode was his own hunter mode. It would have to do. One thing at a time. He turned decisively to pull over the rolling supply cart and a stool.

Then he tore open an alcohol wipe, cleaning the back of your hand with it. He opened up a new needle, one that looked like it had wings and had a port to inject medicine into. He'd seen you use it on Sam once.

Feeling with his fingertips, Dean located a vein just below the surface of your skin. He checked the angle, took a breath, and slid the needle in, securing it in place with a piece of tape. He quickly worked to attach a saline drip to the IV line.

Dean remembered when you'd insisted on having adrenaline - which you always called by its correct name, epinephrine - on hand at all times in the bunker. He and Sam would have had to break into a hospital to steal some, but you were so good at being prepared for these kinds of things. Dean was beyond grateful for that now.

He triple-checked the adrenaline dose in your notes before he drew the liquid up into a syringe.”If I'm right,” he said to you, “and I pray to God I am - this should force your heart to beat a little harder.” And with that he injected it into your IV. Then he watched the monitor expectantly, jaw clenched. “Come on, come on, come on,” he repeated as he watched your pulse blip sluggishly across the screen. “Come on, sweetheart. You gotta give me something here.”

And then your heart rate climbed a little, going up a beat or two at a time until it leveled out at 59 bpm. It wasn't fantastic, but it was a start. Your blood pressure also rose slightly, to 103/69. “Hey, I'll take it,” he said. “That's my girl.”

He checked the clock on the wall and sighed. He had no idea how long it would take Sam to get back with the antidote, but he had to manage until then. He suspected the adrenaline wouldn't last long, so he readied another dose and set it aside. Your breathing still looked shallow, and your heart rate was more than just a little concerning.

He debated only for a second before rolling over the EKG machine as well. It was better to use all the technology at his disposal to help him to watch over you than to wish he had later.

He cut your tank top off with a pair of scissors, tossing the material into the nearest garbage can. Then he worked around your bra, meticulously attaching three electrode patches to your chest and abdomen like you'd shown him.

As he worked he couldn't help but think about the time you'd taught him how to use the EKG. At the time, he thought he'd been doing you a favor, making you feel better by helping you test out the equipment. He'd had fun kissing you and teasing you while your heart had been on full display. Now he realized with a sharp clarity that you'd also been educating him in preparation for a time just like this.

Dean had mixed feelings about that revelation, but he pushed them aside and concentrated on getting the leads attached to the electrode patches just right. Then he flipped on the power switch and watched as the little green lines began dancing along the screen.

He narrowed his eyes, observing the little peaks and valleys of each heartbeat and trying to decide if they looked right. He had only a very basic understanding of the waves, but he did have the image of your healthy heartbeat ingrained in his mind’s eye for comparison, thanks to his little souvenir printout of that night. And the current reading on the screen was drastically different.

And your breathing … 10 respirations per minute. He was confident in his decision to give you oxygen. With your heart acting so sluggish, you needed all the help you could get. He pulled the blanket up to cover you and keep you warm and then dialed his brother for an update.

“Tell me you've got good news,” Dean said desperately once Sam picked up.

“I'm on the right track. I've got the name of a retired hunter Samuel got the recipe for the antidote from. I’m going to show up on his doorstep because he's not taking my calls…. How is she?”

“I - I don't know. She's a fighter. ” Dean sighed and rubbed his mouth with a hand. “I'm just trying to get her heart to pump harder and get her blood pressure up. I don't know what more-”

“That's what she needs. Keep it up,” Sam assured him. “I'll let you know as soon as I have it.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean hung up and stuffed his phone into his jeans pocket.

He fetched some clean clothes from the room the two of you shared. It was the room you'd initially claimed when moving into the bunker, but after you'd become a couple Dean had moved in, putting clothes in the closet and dresser alongside your own.

He returned to the infirmary and carefully switched out your dingy jeans for some comfy sweatpants and a pair of those fuzzy socks you love.

Once he was satisfied that you were as comfortable as possible, he came to sit on the stool next to you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You just make all of this look so easy,” he said, feeling tightness in his throat. “I’m sorry I can't do more. Just … just hold on for me.”

Then, because he just needed something to do - to make him feel better about just sitting there - he picked up the spare stethoscope you kept in the infirmary.

He put it on, slid the blanket down a ways, and held the bell to your chest.

If Dean had to explain the sound of your heartbeat in one word, it would be weary. He took the stethoscope off again, setting it on the supply cart.

Moisture threatened his eyes and a stubborn tear escaped, which he wiped away with the back of his hand. God, you were in trouble, and he didn't know what more he could do.

He paced around the room for several minutes in an attempt to burn off some nervous energy. It didn't work. Then he went to the sink and splashed his face with cold water several times and dried off with a towel before turning back to gaze at the monitor, scrutinizing the numbers again.

The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and your vitals were destabilizing again, prompting him to pop the cap off the needle and inject another dose of adrenaline into your IV. He covered you with the blanket, checked the IV tubing for kinks and stared at the monitor screen, feeling more hopeless than he could remember feeling in a long time.

Your heartbeat traced along sleepily, but climbed back up to a slightly higher pace, although not quite as high as the last time.

Dean wondered what you were dreaming about under the influence of the Djinn poison. Wondered if he was a part of the perfect life the genie would have created in your mind to keep you docile. With a pang that drove deep into his heart, he admitted a painful truth.

No dream version of a life for you would remotely resemble the one the two of you were leading now, he realized. You deserved so much more than anything he had to offer….

An even deeper sense of hopelessness rushed in at the thought. It was overwhelming, almost suffocating. And he let himself dwell in it for a moment before he shook his head to clear it. He brushed your hair back and bit his lip as he gazed at your face.

“Hey, I don't know what you're seeing in there, but it - it's not real.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. Then he took your hand in his, pulling it flat against his chest over his thudding heart. “Feel this? This is real,” he told you, his voice rough with emotion. “I need you to fight that dream world you're living in. I need you to fight to get back here to me and Sammy. We need you. I need you….” Dean sighed, holding your hand in place over his heart. “You've gotta hold on, Sweetheart. I'm not letting you go. Not after everything we've been through.”

He sat there like that, your palm pressed to his heart, watching the languid rhythm of your heartbeat trace along the monitor, praying that you'd hold on, and that Sam would come through in time.


	11. Chapter 11

The bunker was quiet when you got home from your shift at the hospital. You didn't actually expect anyone to be home yet. Your last text from Dean had said they were at least half a day’s drive out and that had only been three hours ago.

You took a bubble bath, washing the day off of you as you tried to unwind and let go of the stress of the job for the evening. You hadn’t seen your husband in over a week, and you didn’t want to be in a sullen mood when he returned.

The bath seemed to do the trick. Your muscles had released most of the tension you’d been carrying, washing it away down the drain with the water and suds as you toweled off and headed to the room you shared with Dean to get dressed.

_Glancing at your phone, you realized the guys would most likely stop off to eat dinner during the drive, prompting you to finish what was left from the chowder you’d made yesterday before your shift._

_You decided to pass the time with a movie to distract you until they got back, and while you reached for the TV remote, intending to find something on Netflix, you had a sudden yearning to watch something a little more meaningful. You opened the cupboard below the TV and fished around until you located the DVD you needed, opening the clear plastic case and popping it into the blue ray player._

__

_You curled up on the couch with a blanket, a smile stretching across your face as the footage began playing on the big screen._

_' **There’s the blushing bride,’ Sam said, carrying the camera toward you as you stood in your mom and dad’s living room in your white dress. Mom was wiping at her eyes with a tissue and little Savannah, who had been a toddler at the time, was carrying a small basket full of flower petals.**_

**_You smiled and waved at Sam and the camera when you saw him approaching. ‘Is everyone ready out back?’ you asked._ **

**_‘Good to go as soon as you are.’_ **

**_You stepped forward to kiss Sam on the cheek and Dad held his arm out for you. You gripped his elbow with a hand._ **

**_‘We should probably get out there in our places,’ Sam said to your Mom. ‘And I’ve got to give this camera back so they can film the ceremony.’_ **

_Just watching the scene play out before your eyes like this was enough to make you remember the sting of happy tears in your eyes._

**_You accepted your bouquet from Mom and hugged her, smiling and promising that you’d give her a couple of minutes to get to her seat before making your way out._ **

 

_The footage cut just then, and when the camera was turned back on it was focused on the small crowd that was seated in neat rows on the lush green grass in the spacious backyard. You smiled as you gazed at the decorations, at the happy faces of the people who had come to support you._

_You weren’t sure who had been operating the camera at this point, but they’d known what they were doing and had zoomed in just then on Dean and Sam who were standing at the front of the crowd in their places to the right._

**_Dean stood in his black suit and tie, looking devastatingly handsome, and trying to hide the fact that he was a nervous wreck. You knew him well enough to recognize the little subtle gestures that gave him away. The camera moved across, panning out far enough to reveal Castiel who stood nearby, waiting to officiate the ceremony. The instrumental music began playing and the camera panned back out to follow little Savannah as she slowly and somewhat clumsily made her way down the aisle in her cute little white dress, dropping clumps of petals as she went._ **

_You brought your hand to your mouth, laughing at the memory of it. She’s been so tiny back then. And she’d gripped the petals in her little fists and crumpled them in an attempt to spread them as she went. It was precious, and you wouldn’t have changed it for the world._

**_The music lifted into a crescendo and shifted, and once again the camera zoomed in to show Dean’s face. His features softened, mouth going soft and eyes widening, and you knew that was it. That was the moment he’d seen you walking toward him. The wonder and almost disbelief in his expression was short lived, but powerful. Then he swallowed hard in an attempt to pull himself together, lips thinning as he smiled._ **

**_You were approaching him now, and you paused with Dad before the crowd. You hugged your father, smiling when you saw tears in his eyes, reminding yourself that you weren’t going to cry during the ceremony. You kissed Dad’s cheek, whispered that you loved him, and took Dean’s hand as Dean lead you up to your place in front of the crowd at his side._ **

**_‘We welcome all of you here today to share in this union of two souls here on earth,” Cas began._ **

_You watched the screen, completely enamored by the way you and Dean were gazing into each other’s eyes. It hadn’t mattered that people were watching. He’d been staring into your soul since the night he’d rescued you. And you’d been drowning in those green eyes of his ever since. It was only natural that your relationship had taken this course._

_As Castiel’s introduction continued and then moved on to vows, you found yourself spinning your wedding ring on your finger, watching as the dim light from the TV glinted off it as your twisted it around casually._

_“Honey, are you in here?” Dean’s voice called, and you realized with a start he’d walked into the bunker without you hearing him._

_“I’m here,” you called back in response. You moved the blanket from your lap and were turning to stand when Dean walked into the room._

_“There you are,” he said to you in greeting, a smile stretching across that perfect mouth of his. Out of habit you inspected him as he approached, seeing the drying blood on his t-shirt and flannel._

_“Are you okay?” you asked, your tone lending to your concern._

_“I’m fine, baby. Just got a little vamp on me, that’s all.”_

_You frowned as you continued to look him up and down, finding that he appeared to be intact._

_“Is this our wedding video?” he asked, grinning as he cocked his head to the side and gazed at the TV._

_“What can I say? I was feeling nostalgic and missing my husband.”_

_“Best decision I ever made,” Dean said adorably, looking from the TV back down to your face._

_“I would kiss you right now, Winchester,” you said to him with a smile. “But you’d get vampire all over me.”_

_“Say no more,” he said like a man on a mission. “I’ll go get cleaned up.”_

_“I love you,” you called out after him, giggling. “Glad you made it home okay.”_

_“I love you, too,” he responded as he disappeared around the corner._

_“I love you both,” Sam called out over-dramatically as he wandered into the room._

__

_“Hey Sam,” you greeted him. “How about you? Are you okay?”_

_“I’m fine,” Sam assured you, and you noticed he did seem to have fared better than Dean in the vampire blood and guts department this time._

_“Where’s Cas?”_

_“Who knows. Said he had something to take care of. You know how he is. He’ll pop back in sooner or later.” Sam’s attention had diverted to the footage playing on the TV and he smiled softly as he watched the screen. “That was a good day,” Sam said, gesturing with a nod in the direction of the video._

_“It was a great day,” you agreed wistfully, following his gaze. Vows completed, you and Dean were just leaning in to share your first kiss as husband and wife, to the great pleasure of the small crowd. You could see your whole family there, as well as your adopted family that also considered of Donna, Bobby, Jody, Alex and Claire._

_“If you’d have told me five years ago that I would be the best man at my brother’s wedding,” Sam said as he watched the screen, chuckling. “Well, let’s just say I’d have lost money on that bet.”_

_“Neither one of you saw me coming,” you teased._

_“That’s for damn sure,” Sam agreed, smiling at you. “And Dean that day, I thought he was going to … ” His voice trailed off in thought briefly._

_“What? Sneak out to the Impala and drive away like it was stolen?”_

_Sam laughed at that. “Nah, I knew he wasn’t going anywhere without you. He’s madly in love with you. No doubt about that. And you’re good for him. Good for him in ways he even he didn’t know he needed. I was going to say I thought he was going burst at the seams with pride.” Sam looked at the TV again, watching. “I mean look at him. Look at his face.”_

_You smiled as you studied Dean on the screen, watching as he raised your hand up victoriously with his own, the two of your laughing before you made your way back down the aisle as the music shifted to Queen’s Another One Bites The Dust. You and Dean danced over Savannah’s flower clumps past the guests and toward the back so the dinner, drinks and celebration could begin._

_“Now you, on the other hand,” Sam said accusingly as he raised an eyebrow in your direction. “If anything, you were the flight risk.”_

_“Me?” you said, not hiding your surprise. “What are you talking about?”_

_“Cas and I were taking turns keeping an eye on you all day,” he elaborated. “We were convinced you were going to come to your senses and realize you didn’t want to marry that guy.” He shook a thumb in the direction of the screen again and you watched as the footage showed Dean smashing a bite of cake into your mouth and covering half your face in icing and crumbs before Jody playfully smacked him on the shoulder in reprimand._

_You laughed and said, “I knew what I was getting myself into.”_

_Sam grinned and watched the video for a few more seconds before saying, “Speaking of knowing my brother so well, I’d better go holler at him through the bathroom door to make sure he doesn’t take all the hot water.”_

__

_Dean was just pulling on a clean t-shirt when you found him in the bedroom twenty minutes later. He'd showered and scrubbed any trace of vampire blood from his skin._

_“I’ll take that kiss now,” he said with a grin as he turned to face you._

__

_You happily obliged, letting him pull you close by your hips. The kiss was soft and sweet and sincere. You teased the hair at the back of his neck with your nails, appreciating the feel of him pressed up against you. Every time he came home in one piece like this you thanked your lucky stars to have him back, even if only until another hunt would lead him away again._

_“Did you miss me,” you asked when you pulled back._

_“You have no idea,” he said, holding you at the small of your back to keep you close. “I didn't get to ask earlier, but how was work?”_

__

_“It was kind of a long day, but I didn't get vampire all over me, so there's that.” You smiled at him, amazed at how just looking into those green eyes could make everything right in the world._

_He took your hand, playing with your fingers and then bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss it. “Do you want to talk about it?”_

_You shook your head. “I'm good. Especially now that you're back.”_

_He pulled your hand to his chest then in a familiar gesture, holding it in place over his heart. “If you change your mind, I'm here.”_

__

_But you'd stopped listening the minute you felt the thumping beneath your palm._

_It was off._

_It didn't make any sense, but it was like there were two hearts in his chest competing for your attention, one more forceful than the other._

_“Do … do you feel that?” you said, pressing your hand harder to his chest._

__

_Dean frowned. “Feel what? My heart beating?”_

_“Yeah, but it’s like there's more than… ” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Can you really not feel that?”_

_Dean blinked at you. “I feel fine.” He cupped your cheek with a hand, studying your face. “Hey, if you think something's wrong maybe you should give me a checkup?” He smirked, raising an eyebrow._

_It was sort of brilliant, actually. “Good idea.” You walked him backward to the bed._

_Dean looked smug, obviously pleased with himself. “I'm not going to lie, I didn't really expect you to be on board-”_

_“Sit down, Winchester,” you instructed, reaching for the nightstand._

__

_He wet his lips with his tongue and pulled his shirt over his head eagerly. “Whatever you say, baby.” He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes growing wide with anticipation as you approached and straddled his lap, stethoscope now hung around your neck. You pressed your palm flat over his heart again. You could still feel it._

_That double beat. Like he had two hearts._

_It was bizarre. You'd never known anything like it before. It wasn't even possible. And yet Dean seemed perfectly fine._

_His eyebrow went up just slightly as you put on your stethoscope. “Really going with this checkup thing, are we?”_

_You pressed a finger to his lips to quiet him as you moved the bell to his chest and held it there, listening to the lub-dub of the muscle as it contracted. It was the strangest sensation. You could still feel the double-beat beneath your palm where you held the stethoscope in place, but Dean’s heartbeat sounded loud and clear and totally normal in your ears. And of course he didn't have more than one heart. The mere idea of it was ridiculous._

_What the hell?_

_You released the bell, turning your own hand over to rub the pads of your fingers together. You could feel it when you pressed your hand to his heart, true as anything. But his heart sounded perfect. None of it made any sense. You were relieved he appeared to be fine, but apparently you were losing your damn mind._

__

_Dean beamed up at you, his playful mood light and infectious. “What do you say, doc? Is my heart healthy enough for some mind-blowing sex with my smokin’ hot wife?”_

_God, he still thought you were role-playing or something. It was adorable, and endearing, and the way he was licking those sinful lips of his was about enough to make you melt. You couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. “Mind-blowing, huh?”_

_Dean took that as his cue and wrapped an arm around your waist, flipping you over onto the bed and hovering above you. “Damn right.”_

_You pulled the stethoscope off and set it aside as he tugged your pants off your hips. He trailed kisses up your thigh, pausing long enough to lock eyes with you. And when you looked up at him, finding the passion roiling just beneath the surface in those green eyes, you shivered and decided he could definitely make you forget about whatever tricks your mind was trying to play on you._


	12. Chapter 12

The blips and dips on your heart monitor became so erratic that an alarm began to sound on the machine, echoing off the walls of the infirmary and nearly causing Dean's own heart to jump out of his chest.

“No, no…. Come on, sweetheart,” he pleaded as he readied another dose of adrenaline. Willing his hands to stop shaking, he carefully injected it into your IV and set the empty syringe aside, sitting on the stool again and taking your hand in both of his.

“I need you to keep fighting,” he urged, stealing glances at the monitor as he spoke. The alarm was still blaring, signaling just how dire your condition was. The hopelessness was taking root in Dean's gut now, threatening to crush everything good in his world as he felt you slipping further and further away.

He was losing you.

And the time you'd had together, it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. He'd waited for years without knowing it, never dreaming a woman like you even existed. And he couldn't lose you. He just couldn't.

“You gotta come back to me, Sweetheart…. I've been waiting for the right time to ask you if you'll officially become a Winchester.” Dean swallowed hard. “I’ve had the goddamn ring in my pocket for weeks now just trying to work up the nerve to get down on one knee and - and now this….” Tears blurred his vision and he wiped at his eyes with a hand.

Then he heard Sam's voice echoing down the hallway. “Dean!”

“Sam?” Dean called out, jumping to his feet. “Sammy, thank God.”

“How is she?” Sam asked as he rushed into the infirmary, a little winded from having run from the garage. But his face fell when he saw you lying there on the exam table, eyes scanning the monitor screen as it blared its warning about your plummeting heart rate.

“She's barely hanging on. The adrenaline I've been giving her is the only thing stopping her heart from giving out.” Dean gave Sam the once over. “Please tell me you got it.”

Sam nodded, still a little out of breath. He reached for the inside pocket of his jacket and produced a small sealed mason jar.

Dean blinked at him as he accepted it. “What the hell, Sam? This looks like freaking moonshine.”

“I know what it looks like, but it’s the antidote. He swears it's sterile and everything.”

Dean inspected the clear liquid in the jar and rubbed the back of his neck with a hand anxiously. “Do you seriously expect me to inject her with questionable liquid from a mason jar?”

Sam sighed. “It's all we’ve got, Dean. This is it.”

“Did the antidote you used on me come from one of these?” Dean asked, looking like just the sight of the mason jar was making him ill.

“Well no.... But Dean, this is the guy Samuel got the antidote recipe from. He's the real deal.”

Dean cursed as he carried the jar to the rolling cart with supplies and set it down. He pulled an empty syringe from a cupboard, removing it from it's packaging and connecting an 18 gauge needle to it. He drew the antidote up into the syringe before capping the needle again.

He knew the quickest method of delivery was straight to the heart, but your little heart just seemed so fragile. He didn't know enough about medicine to know whether or not sticking a needle into your heart in your state could be the thing that made it stop altogether.

He opted to make use of the IV port instead, injecting the clear liquid as he uttered a prayer under his breath to whoever might be listening.

Dean capped and set aside the empty syringe, feeling Sam's supportive hand on his shoulder as both of them watched the monitor screen with baited breath.

The alarm was still sounding on the machine, but your heart was still beating, despite it's obvious distress.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Dean said, lacing the fingers of one of your listless hands with his own. “A little magic moonshine and you should be feeling good as new.”

Sam turned his concerned gaze on his brother just then, seeing how close Dean was coming to losing it.

“How fast does this stuff work?” Dean asked.

Sam frowned as he took his jacket off. “It was pretty quick when I used it on you, but-”

“But what?”

“Well, I injected it directly into your heart.”

“Goddammit,” Dean practically growled. “I should have - I could have done…. It's just … her heart is so weak right now. I didn't … ”

The monitor blipped along with your heartbeat, skipping and lethargic, and showing no signs of increasing or leveling out.

“It might just take a little time,” Sam said.

“Time she might not have.” Dean said as he rose to his feet. He grabbed your stethoscope and put it on, folding back the blanket covering you to give him access. He held the bell to your skin near the center of your bra, his eyes falling shut as he listened intently. But it sounded the same. Slow and weary and just goddamn wrong.

Dean pulled the stethoscope off and sat it on the nearby tray, covering you again. He turned away from you, running his hand through his hair anxiously. Sam could see the fear-stricken panic in his brother's eyes as he paced across the infirmary.

“When this is over I'm going on a Djinn-killing binger. I'm swear to God I'm going to hunt down every last one of those sons-of-bitches and make them wish their kind hadn't picked a fight they can’t win.”

“I'm one-hundred-percent on board with that plan,” Sam agreed. “I'm sure she will be, too.”

Dean paused in front of the wall and he leaned his forehead against it, his shoulders slumping in exhaustion. “We can't lose her, Sammy. I - I can't -”

“I know.... We won't. You’ve taken great care of her,” Sam told him as he walked around the exam table and pulled another stool close. “I mean, look at this.” He gestured with a wave of his hand at all the medical equipment Dean had put to use. Sam sat down on the stool and reached over, taking your hand in his, squeezing it gently. “She’ll pull through, Dean. She will. And when she does she'll be proud of what you've done here.”

Dean stood there, leaning against the wall in silence.

“Hey, now that I'm back I can sit with her while you go get cleaned up,” Sam suggested. “We're both still covered in soot and ash and Djinn blood.”

Dean spun around to face his brother with renewed vigor. “I'm not leaving her.”

“I just thought it might be best when she wakes up if we don't look like-”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Dean reiterated. “Not when she's still so … ” He paused and took a breath to center himself. He hadn't meant to snap at Sam. “Not until she's stable, at least.”

Sam nodded, understanding. Dean was barely holding it together, and only then because you'd need him when you woke up. Need him to be strong and steady, even if he’d never felt less of either.


	13. Chapter 13

_You'd just sent a teenage girl upstairs for surgery after diagnosing her with acute appendicitis. It would be a close call, as her condition had been fairly advanced before she'd come to the hospital seeking treatment, but you were hopeful the surgical team could remove her appendix before it burst and spread infection throughout her system. You stood there, facing the elevator doors as they closed, taking a deep breath to center yourself._

__

_You heard Shawna call your name from down the hall and you turned to find her beckoning you with a wave. “Your hubby is here,” she said as you approached._

_A sensation that was equal parts joy and fear took up residence in your stomach at the news. “Tell me he's in one piece,” you said to her as she fell into step beside you._

_“He seems fine. I think he just wanted to surprise you with a visit.”_

_“Thank God,” you breathed._

_“He is causing a scene down at the nurses station,” Shauna added with a grin. “I'm not sure who needs saving more … him or the nurses.”_

_You laughed out loud as you rounded the corner. A hoard of nurses were gathered around the nurses station, laughing and talking in tones that were higher pitched than normal. When you rounded the corner of the desk you spotted him, standing there in one piece, as promised._

_“Come on now ladies, you know I can’t discuss government business,” Dean said with a bit of a smirk, seemingly in response to a line of questioning from the staff that had gathered to greet him._

_You walked around the small group and Dean's green eyes connected with yours before a big grin stretched across his perfect lips._

_“There she is,” he said as he moved forward, opening his arms for you as you stepped into his embrace._

_“You made it back,” you breathed into his shirt, holding him tight and feeling the reassuring and solid warmth of him._

_Dean rubbed your back in soothing motions with his free hand. “I'm good, baby. I'm here.”_

_A hunt had taken him away from you almost three weeks ago, and on the way back from that case another had reared up, causing he and Sam to delay their return home and head west. It felt like a lifetime since you’d been in his arms like this. Since you’d done more than listen to that deep sandpapery voice of his over the phone._

_You raised your chin and kissed his lips, earning a few whistles from your audience of nurses. You grinned as you pulled back and turned your head to face them all. “All right, show’s over ladies.” There were a few groans of resignation as the group cleared out. “Sam?” you asked him._

_“He's sporting a black eye, but nothing serious. He's waiting in the car. I just … I had to see you.”_

_You took Dean by the hand and led him to an on-call room down the hall, pulling the door closed behind you both. It wasn't the first time Dean had visited the hospital on his way home from a hunt to reassure you he was safe, and to ground himself in some alone time with you, however brief, before heading home. Really intense cases tended to leave him with a need to touch you, to feel that you were real and warm and sweet, and everything he needed to restore his faith in the world._

_In one swift motion Dean gripped your stethoscope, gently using it to tug you up against him. Your bodies met, your hands resting on his thick chest as he guided you backward, pressing your back to the now closed door. His knee came to wedge your legs slightly apart. You rested your weight there on his thigh, the sensation causing heat to flood your core._

_Then his lips were crashing down on yours, tongue seeking entry, hands carding through your hair. You matched his enthusiasm, feeling the stress of the day melt out of your bones as he reminded you about all of the good things you had to be grateful for._

__

_You found yourself pushing his flannel layer over his shoulders until he released you long enough to shed the second shirt all together. He kissed you again and you felt your heart thump with the accompanying adrenaline rush. Then he pulled back far enough to stare into your eyes, his hands on either side of your face. “Damn…. I missed you, baby.”_

_“I missed you, too, Winchester,” you told him. Your body was reacting to the prolonged separation in the most obvious and basic ways. Your thumbs brushed up under the bottom of his tee shirt to tease along the tender skin of his stomach.Your nerves were hypersensitive to his touch, knees growing slightly weak at the way he moaned your name into your ear softly._

_Being married to the man did nothing to make you immune to his charms. You knew it would always be that way. You loved him more for it._

_Then he was peppering kisses along your jawline and down your throat._

_“D - Dean … oh god….”_

_He resisted the urge to leave a mark on your neck, knowing your shift wasn't over yet, but he slid the neck of your scrub top to the side and gently nipped at the flesh above your collarbone._

_You gasped softly, wondering if he was going to take you right then and there. It wouldn't be the first time…. You were torn about wanting to fully enjoy him and take your time with him back at the bunker in your bed and the need to have him inside of you right now. But Dean’s mouth covered yours again, drawing you out of your thoughts._

__

_You closed your eyes, enjoying the sweet burn his scruff left on the surface of your skin, the scent of him, the warmth of his mouth and his hands._

Then, beyond all comprehension, when you opened your eyes again you found you were no longer in the on call room of the hospital with your husband. And all you knew was the powerful unpleasant scent of plastic, and the overwhelming ache in your head.


	14. Chapter 14

You groaned, blinking slowly as your eyes adjusted to the lighting. Your head was pounding, your pulse throbbing in your ears like a current, blocking everything else out.

Then you heard him.

_Dean._

He was saying your name.

You opened your eyes, doing as he’d said. It took some blinking to adjust to the lighting and your surroundings came into focus, your eyes meeting Dean’s familiar green ones.

“Hey sweetheart,” he breathed, something like relief in his rough voice. “You’re safe. You're in the bunker. Sam and I are here.” He smiled and squeezed your hand. You hadn't known he was holding it until then. You opened your mouth to speak, but it was so dry no words would come out. “We'll get you some water,” Dean said, looking over his shoulder.

You heard Sam’s voice but didn't register what he said before Dean turned back around and lifted what you realized was an oxygen mask off your face, pulling the strap away and setting it aside. He put a hand behind your head and helped you raise up just far enough to take a few sips of water from a glass. It was liquid heaven running down your parched throat.

“Nice and slow…. Good,” Dean said, taking the cup from you when you'd finished. “That’s my girl.”

You took a deep breath, looking to Dean again. You glanced past him to the subway tiles on the wall, the vintage scale by the doorway.

And then you felt the panic start to set in. One minute you'd been at work at the hospital, stealing away a few minutes alone with your husband in the on-call room, and the next you were waking up in what looked to be the infirmary in the bunker, while he hovered over you protectively.

It was unnerving, disorienting.  _How the hell had you gotten here?_

You felt your breathing quicken, eyes darting frantically around as you searched for an explanation. You tried to sit up but Dean’s hand was on your shoulder now with gentle but firm pressure. 

“Hey, take it easy, okay?” he was saying. “Lie back. You've got to stay put for now.”

You let your head fall back again with a huff. “What happened?” You turned your head far enough to get your first good look at Sam, too.

He looked like he'd had a long night. They both did. “Tell me what's going on. How did I get here?”

Dean’s gaze fell down to where he was gripping your hand, and you didn't miss his quick glance in Sam’s direction. “You, uh … you don't remember being taken?” Dean asked, meeting your gaze again.

_Taken?_

No. You definitely didn't remember anything like that. You shook your head, but stopped quickly because of the throbbing pain. Surely he was mistaken.

“I - I was just at work. I wasn't taken … ” But something had definitely happened, you realized, as you considered the fact that you were lying on the exam table in the infirmary. Only then did the incessant noise droning on and on in the background become clear to your ears. It was beeping … from a monitor; an all-too familiar sound, given your profession. And the speed was picking up as adrenaline flooded your veins.

“You said I was taken…. Taken by _what_?” you asked Dean, including Sam with a questioning glance.

Dean swallowed like the very act caused him pain. “Djinn.”

Your head felt light as air for a second, but in a disorienting, this-has-to-be-a-nightmare sort of way. You looked to Sam for confirmation, but he couldn't even meet your gaze. You closed your eyes tight to keep the room from spinning. Your head felt worse somehow, and the pounding was making it hard to think straight.

Dean pressed his hand to your cheek, thumb brushing along your skin softly. You found yourself leaning into his touch. Whatever was happening, Dean was here. He was always here when you needed him. But Djinn were lie-makers, weaver's of falsities. How in the world were you supposed to know what was true? _Was this even your Dean?_

You opened your eyes again and looked at him. Really looked at him. He looked familiar enough in most ways. He looked like Dean, after all. Sounded like Dean. You narrowed your eyes, scrutinizing every last inch of his face.

Dean’s expression softened, almost as if he realized what you were doing.

He looked tired, like he hadn't slept recently. And those eyes, green and deep. Those looked like the same eyes you'd been staring into for years. His lips, full and soft…. Yes, those definitely looked like the lips you'd kissed more times than you could count.

But there was a scar there on his chin. You didn't remember it at first…. You chewed your lip in concentration, reaching out without thinking about it to brush your fingertips along the scruff on his jaw there. You traced the small scarred line, and suddenly you wondered how you hadn't recognized it to begin with. It was just as familiar to you as each freckle that fanned out across his cheeks.

And the Dean you'd been making out with at the hospital just before waking up didn't have a scar there on his chin….

And yet … _this was your Dean._ You knew it now without a doubt.

The thought was as alarming as it was comforting. The revelation shook you to the core, making your hands tremble even more.

Moisture filled your eyes as you cupped his cheek with your hand before pulling him down to you. Dean’s expression was flooded with relief as his arms came around you. He held you close while you gripped around his neck.

__

_God, how much of what you knew was a lie?_

“I've got you, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I'm here.”

Tears fell freely as you hugged him, and only partly because you realized you weren't sure where life with your Dean had left off and where the Djinn dream had started. It was all one blurry jumble.

God, you were a mess.

“We’ll get you sorted out,” Dean promised, as if he'd read your mind. “We have all the time in the world for that.”

But you'd just noticed the IV in your hand as Dean released you, and you leaned back and gazed at it with wonder. Glancing down at yourself, you also found a monitor clip hooked to one finger and a blood pressure cuff on your arm.

“Did - did you do all this?”

Dean let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “Yeah. I, uh, I had a good teacher.”

You gave him an impressed nod, moving to sit up. Dean was reaching out to steady you before you got vertical, and you were suddenly grateful for his hand on your back as your vision blurred and your head felt light again.

“Whoa, hold up.” Dean admonished, helping you to relax against the bed again. “Easy now. There's no hurry.” You held a hand to your forehead, closing your eyes and willing the dizziness to pass.

“You got hit with a major dose of Djinn poison,” Sam said sympathetically, stepping closer. “Even with the antidote, it might take a bit before you feel one hundred percent.”

You took a few deep breaths, reaching out a hand toward Sam. He gripped it tight and you opened your eyes to look up at him. “You're shorter in real life,” you told him in an effort to lighten the mood.

Sam grinned at you. “Welcome back, smart ass.” Then he bent down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I'm going to go make you some herbal tea. What flavor do you want?”

“Mmm…. Surprise me?”

Sam nodded. “You got it.”

You gave him a grateful smile, watching him squeeze Dean's shoulder before he left the infirmary.

“He's right about the Djinn poison,” Dean said. “They hit you pretty hard. And for all I know you could be a little anemic.”

You chewed your bottom lip, considering everything. Djinn were blood drinkers. You raised a hand to your neck, feeling a bandage there on the left side. “How long was I … ”

Dean let out a heavy sigh, full of burden and regret. “From the time you went missing? About twenty-four hours,” he answered. “Sam and I got to you last night. Took us that long to find you. Took half the night to get our hands on the antidote, and, well, took a little while for you to come around after that. ” Dean's green eyes looked watery at the admission, and you squeezed his hand.

“You found me and brought me home safe. That's all that matters.”

Dean nodded in that pained sort of way only a Winchester can do. He brought your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles tenderly. “You scared the hell out of me, sweetheart.”

“I'm sorry,” you told him. And then you realized what he'd called you. What he'd been calling you since you woke up.

_Sweetheart._

It felt so natural. So right. Dean had called you that for the first time while you'd been taking care of him in the hospital when you met. It had been a slip, surely; a result of the concussion which had made him careless. But after confessing his feelings for you months later in the bunker, he'd made a habit of calling you by the pet name. And you loved it.

But the Dean you'd been kissing in your dream before waking had gotten it all wrong. He'd called you baby.

How you hadn't picked up on the inconsistency was beyond your comprehension. It was so obvious in hindsight. Baby was the car, but you … you were his sweetheart.

You looked down at your hands, wringing your fingers, and you were suddenly painfully aware that the wedding band normally encircling your ring finger on your left hand was nowhere to be found. You rubbed at the empty spot, feeling the phantom sensation of it there.

“Hey,” Dean said softly, apparently seeing something in your expression that confused him. “Hey, what is it?”

You shook your head, forcing a smile for him. It was going to take a while to wrap your mind around what was real and what wasn't. You'd just have to be patient, and hope that Dean would understand. God, you needed him to understand.

“So, Dr. Winchester,” you said, changing the subject. “What's the prognosis? Am I getting out of this infirmary any time soon?”

Dean cocked his head to the side, presumably worrying over what you weren't saying.

You wiggled the finger with the monitor clip on it, hoping to distract him. You didn't miss the way his eyes scanned the monitor screen quickly before settling on your face again. “I don't know, sweetheart. You tell me.”

Your heart warmed at hearing his nickname for you again. “I think I just need some rest. I don’t have to be in here to do that.”

Dean nodded, glancing up at the IV stand.

“You were pretty dehydrated. Got two liters of fluids in you already. Feel like you still need this?”

You considered him, trying to assess how your body was feeling in general. It was hard to do with the pounding in your head. “Let's lose it,” you told him.

“If you're sure.” Dean said. You took the monitor clip off your finger, handing it to Dean and watching as he turned off the monitor display, quieting the alarm that had sounded at the brief lack of reading. He turned off the EKG, too, and when you moved to reach for the tape on your hand Dean stopped you with a gentle hand on your arm. “Here, let me.”

You leaned back again, grateful for his willingness to fuss over you. You apparently needed it. Dean gently removed the needle from your hand, putting a bandage over the puncture site. He unwrapped the blood pressure cuff from the other arm and set it aside. Then he slid the blanket that was covering you down far enough to remove the EKG leads and patches from your skin.

You thought he was going to help you sit up, and you mentally started willing away the dizziness before it could hit again, but Dean had other plans. He stood and crouched down, covering you with the light blanket again before he scooped you up into his strong arms. You let your head rest in the crook of his shoulder, feeling safe and secure as he carried you from the infirmary and through the bunker to your room.

“Do you want to try sitting up so you can get some tea down you?” he asked, knowing Sam would be close behind.

You nodded as Dean gently placed you in your shared bed, arranging pillows against the headboard so you could lean against them. He helped you slip on a clean t-shirt so you weren't only wearing your bra. Then he sat on the edge of the bed next to you, seeming like he didn't want to be far from your side. As if on cue, Sam knocked lightly on the open bedroom door and came inside.

He smiled when he saw you sitting up and handed you a hot mug. You thanked him, and Sam told you to feel better and promised he wouldn't be far if either of you needed him. Then he excused himself and headed for his own room down the hall.

Dean was watching you carefully as you sipped at the tea. “Doing okay?” he asked, voice soft and sincere.

“Yeah.” You forced a smile for him. It wasn't a total lie. You would be … eventually. And the tea did feel wonderful on your dry throat. Your stomach hadn't had anything in it for a couple of days, from the sound of things. Sam's suggestion of tea had been inspired. You weren't sure you could have kept anything else down. Best to ease back into solid foods.

You finished most of the cup before setting it aside on the nightstand. Dean stood and helped you slide down onto the pillows, tucking you in.

“I, uh, I’ll let you rest then.” He shifted his weight awkwardly. “Holler if you need me.”

He was leaving?

The air felt thinner suddenly. You didn't want to be alone just now. Not while you were still reeling over the news of everything that had happened.

“Don't go,” you called out, finding a flash of what seemed to be pleasant surprise in his eyes at your request. “Stay ... at least until I fall asleep. Please.”

Dean didn't hesitate. “Of course, sweetheart.” He removed his boots, jeans and flannel and settled into bed next to you.

He tentatively draped an arm over your waist. “Is - is this okay?” he asked as an afterthought.

You nodded, surprised at his hesitation, and rolled over to face him. You snuggled up to his chest, needing to feel his solid warmth, his protective embrace.

“Dean?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

He pressed a kiss to your head. “There's no need for that, sweetheart. You close your eyes and rest now. I've got you.”

You did as he asked, knowing you were safe in Dean's arms, even if that was all you knew for certain.


	15. Chapter 15

When you opened your eyes Dean was gazing at you in concern from his side of the bed.

“Hey, Doc,” he said softly, his voice low and rough.

You smiled at him, hoping it might ease some of the worry in his expression. “Hey there, Winchester.”

And then you felt it … something scratching the surface but not quite clear enough to process. It wasn't deja vu, but something wasn't right.

Dean seemed to sense the internal struggle within you, and he sat up a little, putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, hey, you're okay. You're in the bunker, remember? Sam’s here, too. You're recovering from a Djinn infection, but you're home now. It's just the three of us here. You're safe.”

And then it all came rushing back in a flood of comprehension, the story he and Sam had told you about being taken. About how they'd found you and brought you home. “Djinn.... Right.”

Dean's green eyes narrowed as he watched your face. “You feeling okay? I mean, considering.… ”

You gave a little nod to appease him. “Sure, considering. How long have I been asleep?”

Dean glanced at his watch. “Well, it's five o'clock now, so seven hours and some change.”

“Seven hours? And you stayed with me all day?” you said, studying Dean's face.

Dean frowned a little, and you wondered if the surprise in your tone had offended him. “Of course I did.”

“Did you at least get some sleep, too?” you asked.

Dean nodded. “Yeah. A little.” He wet his lips with his tongue. “How's your head?”

“Dunno.” You took a breath and let it out slowly. “I'm kind of scared to move and find out.” You chuckled a little and the corner of Dean's mouth hitched up at the sound. You slowly pushed yourself up onto one elbow, rubbing the back of your neck with a hand, stretching and testing the muscles. “It's not so bad, actually,” you assured him. “I think I slept the worst of the headache off.”

“Good.” Dean said as he got to his feet and pulled his jeans on over his boxers. “Think you're feeling up to a hot bubble bath?”

“God yes,” you practically moaned, making him grin.

“Don't move a muscle,” he added, holding up a finger. “One bubble bath coming right up.”

You resigned yourself to lay there as he left the room, trying not to think about the versions of your life that were colliding in your mind … a conflict guaranteed to bring the raging headache back in full force if you let it.

Dean wasn't gone long, and you sat up as soon as he came back through the doorway. The quick motion caused you to sway a little, your head feeling light, but Dean was instantly there to catch you.

“Hey, easy now,” he said, strong hands going to your shoulders. “Not so fast. You haven't got your strength back yet. Do you want to skip the bath and go straight to dinner? I'll tell Sam to hurry it up and get his ass back here with the food.”

You shook your head. “No way. That bubble bath is calling to me.”

Dean did that little frown thing he does, raising his eyebrows. Then, before you registered what was happening, he was scooping you into his arms.

“Dean, I'm sure I can walk,” you insisted as he carried you out of the room.

“I'll decide,” he said, moving down the hall and toeing open the bathroom door the rest of the way. He maneuvered you into the room carefully and looked left and right, trying to decide the best course of action before setting you down gently on the bathroom counter top.

You took a deep breath, letting the intoxicating scent of the pomegranate bubble bath he'd used fill your senses. You peeled your shirt over your head, dropping it to the floor. It wasn't until you'd unhooked your bra that you realized Dean had a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights look on his face. You couldn't for the life of you imagine why. He recovered quickly though, so you didn't ask.

Dean caught your arm, steadying you as you slid off the counter, your feet touching the cool tile floor. Your knees were a little wobbly, but with his help you managed to stay upright. You moved to slide your sweatpants down but Dean dropped to his knees in front of you, wrapping one arm around your middle to hold onto you while he lowered your pants with his free hand. He slipped your fuzzy socks off your feet one at a time, and then, without a hint of hesitation, he pulled your underwear down so you could step out of those, too.

You caught your reflection in the mirror then, freezing in place. Pale skin, hair in matted strands, an angry bruise on the right side of your neck with what looked like a puncture hole ... but what really caught your attention was the look in your eyes.

You couldn't have described the sensation of looking at yourself just then if you'd tried, but I've thing was certain ... you didn't recognize the person staring back at you. Not fully.

“Hey,” Dean said softly, turning you away from the glass as he took both your hands in his. “I've got you. One thing at a time. Okay?”

You nodded and let him guide you toward the bathtub. You stepped inside and let him hold onto you as you slowly lowered yourself into the hot water and suds.

You leaned your head back and let your eyes fall closed briefly, enjoying the way the water enveloped your sore, weary muscles.

“How is it?”

“There aren't words to describe how amazing this feels.” You opened your eyes and grinned up at him. He was crouched down by the tub, and you scooped up a little dab of bubbles on your finger and put them on the tip of his nose - an attempt to lighten the heaviness in the air.

A smile tugged at the corner of Dean's mouth and he tried, unsuccessfully, to blow the bubbles away with a puff of air. You grinned as he brushed them away with a hand and settled down on the floor next to the tub, leaning against the wall.

“What is it?” you asked, feeling his gaze on you.

“Nothing,” he insisted, but you knew better, training your eyes on him. “It's just you,” he offered in response. “You've been through a lot the past few days. I just want to make sure you're okay.”

You took a deep breath. “I will be… eventually.”

Dean nodded in understanding. “It’s a lot to process. Believe me, I know.”

You knew Dean had had a run in with a Djinn before you'd met him, but he'd never offered up details, and you'd never asked. You were regretting that now. You wanted to talk to him. You really did. But you weren't about to make him feel worse about the situation than he obviously already did. And you weren't sure how to avoid that if you opened up. You just needed some time to wrap your own head around all of it first.

“You don't have to talk about the Djinn dream,” he said gently. “I know it's still fresh, and that kind of thing can mess with you. For a while…. Hell, I still remember mine like it was yesterday.”

You tilted your head to gaze at him. “You do?”

“Sure.” Dean wet his lips with his tongue. “My mom was still alive.” That statement alone was about enough to break your heart. “But, well, Sam and I … we weren't close.”

“Hard to imagine that,” you said softly.

“Yeah, well, Djinn are assholes like that. They give you almost everything, but even while they’re literally sucking the life out of you, they don’t want you to be too happy. They stop just short of making everything perfect.”

“Yeah, I guess you're right.” You absentmindedly swirled bubbles around on the surface of the water with a finger as you considered his words.

Dean’s voice pulled you from your thoughts again when he said, “You'll tell me if I can do something to help you through this, won't you?”

You looked over at him, but his eyes were fixed on the pattern on the flooring. “Yeah. Sure.” As soon as you figured out exactly what that was….

Dean’s eyes met yours briefly.

You had a feeling he wanted to say more. Hell, you wanted to say more. You just didn't have words to voice any of it yet. You found yourself reaching for your wedding ring, a nervous habit, only to find bare skin again where it should be.

_Shouldn't be.... You weren't married._

That was another world. A dream. Nothing but a _monster-poison-induced dream._

God, you needed to get a grip, sooner rather than later. You submerged both of your hands in the water beneath the bubbles as images of the dream world flashed to the forefront of your mind.

Those memories were as vivid and clear as any other memory you had of all the hunts you'd actually been on with Dean and Sam. All of the times you'd patched them up in hotel rooms or in the backseat of the Impala.

The night you'd met them both in the emergency room when a Kitsune had broken Dean's clavicle. The way you'd invited them to crash at your place the next night. The way they'd dropped everything to come running when your brother was in trouble. The way they'd fearlessly fought a Rugaru in an attempt to save your brother, and how Dean had held your the pieces of your broken heart together when you'd fallen apart over his death.

Jumbled in between was this whole other life. A life where you were still practicing medicine at a hospital like you'd always planned and worked so hard to do. A life where you were Mrs. Dean Winchester. Where an angel had officiated the small ceremony you'd had in your parents’ backyard. Where your Dad had walked you down the aisle and given you away to Dean while Sam stood next to him as his best man. Where your adorable niece had played flower girl, and you'd never forget the look in Dean's green eyes as he'd looked up to see you making your way toward him in your wedding dress - toward the start of your fairy tale life together.

It was so frustrating trying to compartmentalize memories. You could feel the headache creeping back in at just the idea of it.

Dean's phone buzzed just then and he pulled it from his pocket. “Sam’s on his way back with soup.”

“Sounds great,” you said, your stomach rumbling at just the thought. You reached for your loofah and Dean got to his knees and put a hand on yours.

“Here, let me.” Dean took the loofah from you, and with all the tender care of a man who had come dangerously close to losing the love of his life, he gently washed away the dirt and grime from your skin and shampooed your hair.

You fight back tears several times as he worked, overwhelmed with gratitude for him that you couldn't express. When he finished your skin was clean and your hair smelled like the scent of your favorite shampoo.

_If only the soap could wash away the fractured bits of false memory still clouding my mind._

Dean helped you climb out of the tub and gently towel dried you before wrapping you up in his fluffy grey robe.

“Better?” he asked.

“You have no idea,” you said with a grateful smile. “I feel like a girl again.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, saying, “Let's get you some clean clothes and get some food in you.”

A few moments later you were dressed in a soft, clean pair of comfy scrubs. You couldn’t decide whether the dream version of you found more comfort in them than the real you did in that moment, but you didn’t have it in you to puzzle it out, grateful that Dean didn’t question your choice of clothing.

Sam was setting out the food in the mess hall when you and Dean walked in. Dean's arm was wrapped protectively around your waist - it seemed he still wasn't convinced you weren't going to collapse at any moment. He finally relaxed a bit when you sat at the table, settling in next to you.

“Hey,” Sam said, smiling wide. “Feeling a little better?”

You nodded, grinning as he sat a bowl of soup before you and turned to a cupboard to retrieve some crackers. “Thank you,” you said. “Both of you. For everything.”

“Of course,” Sam replied. “Besides, we kind of like having you around. Like it or not, you're stuck with us.”

You chuckled as you picked up your spoon, but the expression you caught on Dean's face from the corner of your eye made you look twice.

You glimpsed heartache in those beautiful green eyes, and you couldn't for the life of you figure out why that would be. Dean lowered his gaze almost instantly, finding interest in his own bowl of soup to avoid making eye contact with you.

It was like he wasn't quite sure what to do with you. He seemed to be torn between not wanting to leave your side for an instant, and being tortured by your presence.

You felt a little awkward while you ate the soup, confused about what would cause Dean to look so haunted. Was it guilt over what had happened? How he managed to be so attentive and so distant all at once was beyond you.

You finished the entire bowl of soup and half a pack of crackers by yourself…. God only knew you'd need your strength back to figure out what the hell to do next.


	16. Chapter 16

Your half of the closet was different, or, more specifically, the contents were different.

You thumbed through the hangers, sliding each article of clothing to the side as you gazed at it. A few sets of scrubs were off to the left, occasionally used to free up all the other clothes for washing on laundry day, but otherwise useless.

Next to them hung your white lab coat, which for the most part was unused and forgotten, except for the few occasions you'd donned it over a matching lace bra and panty set to drive Dean wild in the bedroom.

You couldn't help but smile at the thought.

Next to the lab coat hung two garment bags, each containing a professional style blouse and a modest pencil skirt or pant suit deemed worthy of an FBI agent when a case called for it.

And then there were your hunting clothes / everyday attire. Flannels and tank tops and basic cotton tees. You ran your fingers along the collar of a button up flannel, feeling the material against your skin, and your thoughts instantly went to Dean.

You'd learned to associate the feel of it with him. Logic be damned, you felt a nice flannel against your skin and those green eyes instantly lit up your imagination.

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of a throat clearing from behind. Startled, you spun, hand over your heart, to find Dean standing in your doorway.

“Sorry,” he said regretfully. “I didn't mean to-”

“It’s fine,” you assured him with a smile, willing your heart rate to slow back to normal. “Just surprised me is all.”

_Get a grip_ , you told yourself.

Dean eyed you in concern as he stepped forward, pulling you into his arms and cradling your head to his chest. The soft flannel of his shirt served as a warm buffer between his heartbeat and your cheek as you inhaled the familiar scent of him, effectively grounding you.

“How do you feel?” Dean asked, pulling back to watch your face.

“A little stronger today,” you assured him. “What are your plans for the next few hours?”

“Got some work to do on the car,” he said, “Almost had both my girls out of commission there at the same time.” He sort of looked like he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth.

“What's wrong with Baby?” you asked.

He dropped his gaze to the floor, shaking his head a little. “Nothing I can't fix. But I don’t have to - if you'd rather do something else we-”

“No that's fine,” you assured him. “You’ve got to get her running again. I was going to read for a bit, anyway. You know, take it easy. Do you mind if I come with you and read in the garage while you work?”

Dean nodded, perking up a little. “Yeah, of course.”

You spent a few minutes gathering books that covered Djinns. When you made your way out to the garage twenty minutes later you saw that Dean had pulled over a chair for you. A bottle of water and a light blanket were waiting on the chair for you as well.

“Thank you,” you said with a grateful smile, seeing him look up from under Baby's hood as you approached.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” Dean winked at you. Then, after glimpsing the books in your arms he added, “Little light reading, huh? Let me help ou there.” He came around to hold your books for you while you got comfortable in the chair and pulled the blanket onto your lap.

You shrugged and got comfy in the chair, stacking all of the books but one on the floor there and opening the bottle of water. “Just still trying to wrap my head around all the Djinn dream stuff.”

You thought you saw Dean’s face fall a little, but it was hard to tell as he pulled the oil stick to examine it. You opened the book and took a sip from the water bottle as you began scanning the pages.

You knew about Djinns, but the words you read held new weight after having experienced their power first hand.

You didn’t yet recall your encounter with one. You’d read your text to Dean with a picture of the bourbon burger he loved so much, but you still didn’t remember sending it, or much about your trip into Osborne for that matter. You wondered how much of that was your mind’s way of trying to protect itself from overload. There was just too much to sort out amid all the jumbled fragments of your real past and your poison-fed-dream past.

Djinn had the power of pyrokinesis. They were also telepathic, using their ability to read minds to help them weave an alternate reality to subdue and captivate their victims while they literally drained the life from them.

The more you read the more you realized just how lucky you were to be alive. There wasn't even any mention of the antidote in any of the lore you studied. You knew it wasn't well-known, but you hadn't realized it was so obscure, either.

“How did you find the antidote?” you asked Dean, making him pause and glance up at you. “I know we didn’t just have some lying around in the supply room.”

“Our grandfather knew a guy who had the recipe years ago. Sam tracked him down, refused to leave without it. Would have taken it at gunpoint had it come to that. Hell, it almost did.”

You chewed your lip as you let this new information sink in. Dean went back to whatever he was fiddling with under the hood of the car, and you continued reading. You found yourself stealing glances at Dean as he worked. You felt his eyes on you occasionally, and you wished there was more you could do to ease his worry, but you were having a hard enough time convincing yourself that everything was fine.

It was nearly two hours after you’d joined Dean in the garage that you closed the heap of a book you were holding in your lap, sighing as you rose to your feet to stretch. “I’m going to head inside,” you announced.

“Okay,” he said as he wiped his hands on a rag. “I’ll be in before too long. Going to have to order some parts online.”

You nodded and carried your small pile of books back inside, returning them to their rightful shelves.

You found yourself heading for Sam’s room, and before you knew it you were knocking on the door frame, calling out softly through the inches-wide gap where the door wasn’t completely closed to ask if you could come in.

“Yeah, come on in,” Sam called back immediately. When you pushed the door open the rest of the way you saw that he was sitting on his bed with his open laptop nearby.

“Am I interrupting?” you asked as you took a step in the room.

“Please do. Just binge watching a procedural,” Sam said as he moved the computer to make room for you on the bed next to him.

You smiled and sat down, sliding close. Sam threw his arm around your shoulders as you leaned into him. You felt his chest rise and fall with a deep breath, finding yourself subconsciously mirroring the motion and feeling ten times lighter upon exhale. You sat like that in comfortable silence for a moment. And god, it felt good just to be….

So what if you didn’t know exactly who you were these days. Sitting there like that with him was just so comfortable and familiar, to whichever version of yourself your mind - or your heart - could have conjured up. Nothing else mattered.

“How’d you do that?” you muttered.

“Do what?”

“Make me forget for a moment that I’m lost in my own life.”

Sam was silent for a beat. “You’re not lost,” he finally said. “You may have taken a detour, but you were never lost.”

“God, I hope that’s true.”

“Of course it's true, for as long as Dean and I are around. Besides, would I lie to you?” He angled his face so he could look at you better.

“No,” you admitted. “But mostly because I’d kick your ass.”

Sam chuckled at that, and the sound nearly made your heart jump into your throat. You had no idea why you were suddenly getting emotional, but you had to blink back the moisture that threatened to blur your vision.

“How did you guys find me?” you asked, your voice sounding more frail than you cared to admit. You hadn't planned to ask him, but now that you were here you couldn't stop the words leaving your mouth.

“Well,” Sam began, taking another deep breath in an attempt to buy a few seconds while he carefully chose his words. “Dean was worried because you weren’t answering your phone. I thought he was being paranoid, but before I knew it he was grabbing the car keys, intent on going after you.

“Once we reached Osborn and realized your phone was still somewhere at the grocery store, we grabbed our badges and questioned everyone. Nobody had seen anything suspicious, but then Dean found your cell phone in a dumpster around back. It wasn’t until we’d driven around town and located your truck that we found the video file on your phone.”

“Video file?” you asked. “There’s a video?”

Sam’s chest huffed with a breath that you translated to mean that he instantly regretted having divulged something like that. But you were already pulling your phone out of your pocket and opening up the gallery.

“Look,” he said. “Maybe this isn’t the best time-”

“I was abducted Sam,” you said. “Is there really a good time to see evidence of what happened while I was unconscious?”

Sam didn’t have an answer to that as you pressed play on the most recent video file and watched in a detached sort of way as a Djinn cackled, crouching near your unconscious form on the ground and rattling your slack jaw proudly.

You didn’t realize you’d brought your hand to your mouth in utter disbelief at what you were seeing until Sam plucked your phone out of your hands.

“I think that’s plenty. You get the jest of it.”

You couldn’t even protest, stunned into silence. He fiddled with your phone for a moment and then handed it back. “I sent the file to my phone and deleted it from yours. If you decide you want to watch it again later let me know and we'll do it together. I just don't think that's something you ought to do all alone just yet, 'kay?”

Sam held you tighter and you snuggled up to him, finding comfort in the texture of his flannel shirt against your cheek. “Where were they holding me?” you asked.

“In a storm shelter, believe it or not.”

You bit your lip, considering all of the things you knew about Djinn. They were cave-dwellers. They liked abandoned spaces. Dark spaces. Spaces close to the earth, if possible.

“A storm shelter,” you said slowly, trying to process the gravity of the search that must have taken place. “God, that must have been almost impossible to … How did you-”

“We were looking in all the wrong places or we’d have gotten to you sooner,” Sam added. “They were holed up in the shelter beneath a vacant Airbnb. They were waiting for us when we got there. Luckily, Dean and I managed to take most of them out in the cellar. Two others started a fire and locked us inside.”

“My god….”

Sam cocked his head to study your face then. “Hey, it’s okay. We busted out of there and took out the last two. We got ‘em all. I promise. Then we brought you back here to keep you safe.”

You considered his words, still baffled about how so much had happened while you'd been unconscious and living in a dream world.

“Hey,” Sam added, squeezing your shoulders a little. “I don't - I'm not good at saying it, but … you know I love you, right?”

You smiled at him. “Of course. I love you too, Brawny.” You really had freaked them both out, from the sound of things. “Hey, one more thing … Dean mentioned that you’re the one who tracked down the antidote for me,” you added after a moment.

“Yeah, I had the easy part,” he said slowly. It was a loaded statement, considering nothing about it had seemed easy, the way Dean had described it. Easy compared to what, exactly? You couldn’t help but wonder what Dean hadn’t told you.

“Good talk,” you said to Sam, patting his leg as you sat up and got to your feet. “And thanks for, you know, saving my ass.”

He gave you a solemn nod. “Anytime. Where you off to?” he asked, sounding like he was trying not to let on how concerned he was.

“Nowhere. Just got the munchies.” You glanced at him over your shoulder and smiled, hoping it was more convincing than it felt. You were hungry, and a stop off to the mess hall for some beef jerky made what you’d said to Sam true, even if it wasn’t your actual destination.

It was on the way to the infirmary after all.


	17. Chapter 17

You didn’t know what you expected to find when you walked into the infirmary, as your memory of coming to in there just days ago was foggy, at best. But the place was a mess. Messy in the way the ER could look after a patient required a lot of attention and equipment before being wheeled up to surgery, or stable enough to admit for the night.

Empty syringes sat on the rolling cart, some capped, others not. A partially used bottle of epinephrine sat next to them. Your jeans, socks, and a pair of your shoes were on the ground on one side of the room, your flannel shirt having been flung to the other side. You picked up the flannel, smelling smoke on the fabric. Your tank top was lying in pieces after having apparently been cut off you.

Your stethoscope sat on the cart, and the automatic blood pressure cuff rested near it. A package of EKG electrodes, half used, had fallen to the floor near the exam table. You bent to pick it up, noticing the strips of EKG printouts that had also fallen a few feet away. You moved to pick those up as well.

The cardiac rhythm on the EKG printout you held in your hand was troubling, at best. As you glanced at the readings an increasingly familiar detached feeling came over you again, just like you'd experienced while watching the horrible video on your phone.

You brought your hand to your temple as you tried to recall details about waking up in the infirmary to Dean and Sam hovering over you protectively. You remembered the oxygen mask, the smell of the plastic. Then there had been the sound of the vitals monitor beeping, the feel of the blood pressure cuff expanding and deflating on your arm. The IV needle in a vein on the back of your hand and the adhesive tape pulling on your skin to hold it in place.

Sam had insisted he'd had the easy part because Dean had done all of this. He'd given you fluids, monitored your vitals, and maybe more…. Your throat tightened at the realization and you swallowed hard against it.

You studied the EKG results, noticing that your heart rate had been dangerously low, with instances where it raised up, not quite reaching the low end of normal, and then falling back down again. There was definitely a pattern in the readings, and your imagination scrambled to fill in the blanks.

You were so vividly picturing Dean there in the infirmary, worrying over you, fumbling with the equipment, that you weren't at all surprised when he actually appeared there in the doorway, as if you'd willed him there.

“Hey,” Dean said as he walked into the room. “I was wondering where you-”

He paused mid-sentence, frowning as he saw your expression while you sat on the rolling stool in the middle of the mess.

You tore your eyes away from the EKG strip to meet his gaze. “I didn't realize before - I think I was still pretty out if it - but this … ” You gestured around the infirmary. “What you did in here - you saving me - this was way more involved than just getting me the antidote.”

Dean wet his lips with his tongue as he approached and crouched down next to you, resting a hand on top of your knee.

But he didn't speak, seemingly hesitant to discuss any of it with you.

“Please,” you urged, reaching out to cover his hand with your own. “Tell me.”

He gave you a solemn nod and took a deep breath. “When we found you … your heart was beating pretty damn slow.” He tucked his chin down and cleared his throat. “I was trying to figure out whether it was blood loss or the poison that was getting the best of you. Sam drove while I studied your cliff notes.”

Dean had hated that you'd even made those notes. For him, acknowledging that they were a good idea was too much like admitting that he might need them one day.

And of course he would need them. You were a hunter in real life.

You watched the tortured expression on Dean's face as he got to his feet again. You could only imagine the anguish he’d felt at things having gone so horribly wrong as you glanced around the infirmary. You still couldn't remember being taken, but you didn't need to recall the details to know with certainty that Dean had conjured up a hundred reasons as to why he was to blame while you were unconscious.

“We brought you straight here after we realized a trip to the ER would just make it harder to get the antidote in you,” Dean said, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.

You nodded. “That was the right call.”

He turned to look at you then. “God, I questioned that call at least a hundred times.”

“It's what I would have done,” you assured him, needing him to know.

“Sam took off in search of the antidote, and I stayed here with you.”

You held up the EKG printout you’d been studying. “You gave me epinephrine,” you gestured at the bottle nearby, “ … several times, from the look of this.”

Dean gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Dean…. I was bradycardic. If you hadn't intervened, I'd be-”

“Don't.” Dean's voice broke on the word, and you glimpsed the crushing pain in his eyes before he ran a hand over is face. He couldn't bare to hear you say it. It was all so fresh, so raw.

He knew exactly how bad off you’d been.

You dropped the print out and got to your feet, wrapping your arms around his neck. You held him tight despite the fact that he felt stiff, like he was holding back. “I'm sorry,” you breathed. “I'm so sorry.”

Dean's arms slowly came around you. You felt his chest expand with a deep and weighted breath. “Sorry? For what?”

“For - for putting myself in a position that made it possible for the Djinn to snatch me. For putting you and Sam through all this. Whatever I did, it must have been careless.”

“You weren't careless,” he insisted, releasing you and prompting you to lean back to study his face. “The Djinn had been watching us. They were using you as bait to get to us….”

“I knew what I was getting into,” you reminded him. “Hunting…. I knew the risks. I’m just sorry they were able to use me like that. I hate that I let them-”

“Sweetheart, you don't have anything to apologize for. Believe me, I’m the one who's sorry,” he said, and you hated the shades of detachment coloring his tone now. “Djinn can knock you out with just a touch. I highly doubt you let them do anything.”

You nodded, knowing he was right. You found yourself gazing into those intense eyes of his, hoping to decipher something in their green depths that would help you give him what he needed in that moment.

But your attempt fell flat when Dean couldn’t - or wouldn’t - hold your gaze.

He was just different.

You weren’t sure how much of that came from your being hyper-aware of everything he did as you tried to reconcile the truth with the Djinn dream, and how much of it was actually Dean.

You hoped he wasn’t wallowing in guilt over what had happened to you. It would just be so typical of him to torture himself over something he couldn’t have seen coming. Something he couldn’t have prevented. Especially if the Djinn had been plotting your abduction for a while.

And if you were being completely honest, you weren’t even sure what you needed in that moment, leaving you poorly equipped to fix anyone else.

You were a healer. Hunter or no, you’d always be a healer. And feeling like you didn’t have your head and your heart in the right space to help him was enough to shake you to your core. You just hoped it would pass. You wanted to feel like yourself again.

You hoped you would someday.

 

*************

 

Dean was sitting in the mess hall when Sam found him there later that night. He had an open bottle of his favorite whiskey on the table, a glass in front of him, and Zeppelin's ‘Tangerine’ was playing softly through his phone’s speaker.

_Thinking how it used to be_   
_Does she still remember times like these?_   
_To think of us again?_

He didn’t look up when Sam walked in.

“You okay?” Sam asked, eyeing him warily.

Dean licked his lips. “Peachy.” He took a swig from the glass and set it back down.

“Look, it's okay if you're not,” Sam told him as he walked to the fridge “And that goes for both of you. It's a lot to process. I mean, who knows what she saw in the Djinn dream.”

Dean let out a huff and said, “I might have an idea.”

Sam grabbed a beer and joined him at the table. ”What do you mean?”

Dean swirled the whiskey around in his glass for a moment before he answered. “I don't know, man. She just … she keeps looking down at her ring finger like something's missing.”

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly, understanding washing over him as to why his brother was such a mess, despite the fact that you were on the mend.

The song echoed softly off the walls.

_Tangerine, Tangerine, living reflection from a dream._   
_I was her love, she was my queen, and now a thousand years between…_

“Have the two of you talked about it at all?” Sam asked. “Did she say-”

But Dean was shaking his head. “Nope.” He took another drink from his glass and rubbed his face with a hand. “It’s hard to imagine that I - hell - any of this,” he gestured around with a wave of his hand, “would be a part of some perfect life for her.” He sighed and chewed his bottom lip for a second. “I just want to wrap my arms around her and never let go, but … ”

“But?”

“Well, I also know what those Djinn dreams are like. They feel pretty damn real. You heard what she said when she woke up. She thought she’d been at work. Work, Sam … at the hospital. Not hunting. She's been living this other life in her head - with who-the-hell knows who…. It could have felt like years. I don't know how to have that conversation.” Dean took another drink from his glass. “To be honest, I'm not sure I want to.”

Sam nodded. He didn't necessarily agree that ignoring the problem was the answer, but he could only imagine what his brother was going through.

“You want to know what the worst part is?” Dean asked, voice unsteady.

“What?” Sam played along, unsure if he really wanted to hear the answer.

“I was gonna do it,” Dean said, as if that explained everything.

Sam raised an eyebrow in question as Dean reached into his pocket and produced a little square box with gold lettering across the lid. Sam blinked, eyes going wide as he realized exactly what was in his brother’s hand.

Dean opened the box, and even the poor lighting in the mess hall was enough to cause the diamond ring inside to glitter and shine. “I was waiting for the right time,” he said, his voice thick with irony. He gazed at the ring longingly for a moment in silence and then snapped the box shut with such finality Sam actually flinched.

And suddenly Sam's beer just wasn’t going to cut it. He reached across the table instead, gripping the bottle of whiskey and taking a swig straight from it.

Dean watched him briefly before taking another sip from his glass. Sam sat there with him in supportive silence until Dean’s glass was empty. When Dean got to his feet a little while later, he stuffed the little ring box back into the pocket of his jeans. He squeezed Sam’s shoulder as he passed him, making his way down the hall toward his room.

Sam waited a few moments before he followed, stopping to check that his brother had made it to bed okay - if passing out on top of the blankets alone in his old bedroom counted as okay - before he turned in for the night himself.


	18. Chapter 18

Dean awoke in the dead of night to the sound of you crying out. He was confused at first, disoriented by the fact that he had fallen asleep in his old bedroom in his whiskey-buzzed state. He sped down the hall toward the room the two of you normally shared - the room he should have been sleeping in - and threw open the door, rushing inside.

You were tossing back and forth in the blankets, eyes squeezed closed and breath coming quick, uttering something about how none of it could be real.

He mentally berated himself for not having been here with you in bed to begin with. He sat on the edge of the bed and shook your shoulder, gently brushing your hair back from your forehead and calling your name. “Hey, hey, come on now. You’re dreaming. Wake up, sweetheart.”

You awoke with a start, sitting straight up in bed and finding Dean sitting there on the edge of the mattress, eyeing you in concern.

“Hey,” he said softly, gripping your hand to ground you. “You were having a nightmare. Everything’s okay. You’re safe.”

You took a breath, feeling the sheen of sweat on your skin and Dean’s hand on yours. You nodded at him, trying to get your breathing under control. In your sleep you’d been trying to outrun a group of Djinn. Well, actually it had been more like several clones of the same Djinn.

Apparently the research you’d browsed earlier had come back to bite you in the ass. If Dean hadn’t woken you who knows how long your subconscious would have tortured you.

Dean ran his hand through his adorable bed head. “You okay?” His voice was gentle, like he was afraid you might break or something. You hated that he seemed to be walking on eggshells around you, but you hadn’t been doing much to convince him otherwise. You were a mess, but you nodded, more to ease the worry lines on his face than because it was actually true.

A glance at the clock on the nightstand revealed that it was only a quarter to two. Funny how dreams had a way of feeling like hours when, in all reality, it had most likely only been minutes.

Not unlike the Djinn dream that had felt like several years.

You shook your head in an effort to clear it. “If I never have another dream again, it will be too soon,” you groaned.

Dean was watching you. You looked up at him, chewing on your lip. He obviously hadn’t come to bed tonight. His half of the bed hadn’t been slept in, and he was still fully clothed. You weren’t sure why that was, but you hoped he would be willing to stay now.

“I don’t think I’ll be sleeping again any time soon,” you admitted. “Not after … ” 

You took a breath and sighed, wondering why the hell it was so hard to verbalize your thoughts for him. This was Dean.  _Your Dean._  “Any chance you might be willing to stay with me and watch a movie or something? Until I’m tired enough to-”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dean said without hesitation. He handed you the remote from your nightstand and came around his side of the bed to get comfortable next to you.

You briefly debated about whether or not to lean against him, but Dean wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, putting an end to your internal struggle. 

You wondered if the faint smell of whiskey on him was the reason for the added warmth in his demeanor after he’d been so rigid and calculating this afternoon. You breathed a sigh of relief, letting the whiskey-tinted scent of him fill your lungs as you snuggled into his chest.

_This,_  you thought.  _This feels like home._

Dean’s chin came to rest on the top of your head, one hand rubbing in soothing motions up and down your arm as you scrolled through your options on Netflix and made a selection you knew Dean wouldn’t hate. You found yourself matching your breathing to his. Even your body seemed to remember him, seemed to know just what to do in his presence. Why, then, was this still so hard?

You just wanted to feel normal again. Wanted things with  _him_ to feel normal again.

There were glimpses of normal, like this moment right here, but they were so few and far in between - and at least sometimes partially alcohol-induced - and you had no idea how to change that.

You found yourself subconsciously moving to casually spin the ring that was no longer on your finger. When you didn’t find it there again, the realization saddened you in more ways than one. It was a nervous habit that was breaking your heart a little each time you caught yourself doing it. You closed your eyes, willing away the tears that threatened to build there.

You wanted to call your Mom. To hear her voice. Even if it meant lying to her to keep her safe. It was better than nothing. But this … this was the real world, and your parents had died years ago. And your brother had eventually followed. They were all gone…. And you missed them like you’d just lost them all over again.

That’s what it felt like. The pain of it was fresh and raw and so confusing.

Hell, you missed a sister-in-law you’d never actually had. Missed a sweet little niece and nephew that were no more than a side effect of the Djinn poison. Savannah and Jaxon … they weren’t even real.

It was more than heartbreaking. It was earth shattering. And gut wrenching.

And it wasn’t fair….

You couldn’t stop the tears that escaped to trail down your cheek.

Dean must have sensed a shift in your breathing, because he brought a hand up to your face, brushing the back off his finger against your jaw line. “Just relax, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

And he did. You knew he did. You focused on that, snuggled a little deeper into his chest, and tried your hardest to pay attention to the movie.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, or the way Dean so tenderly slid you both down far enough in the bed to keep you comfortable without letting go of you. You didn’t remember him whispering a desperate plea as you slept in his arms.

“I know you’re hurting,” he said softly. “I can feel it in every goddamn beat of my heart…. Hell, sweetheart, it’s like I got you back only to feel you slipping through my fingers. I don’t know how to help you through this. Tell me how to help you.  _Please_. I’ll do anything….”

You didn’t see the silent tear that traced its way through the maze of short scruff on Dean’s face before falling to splash against the pillow. Didn’t see him swallow thickly and watch over you long after you’d dozed before eventually succumbing to sleep himself.

 


	19. Chapter 19

“I’m going out for a drive,” you said to Dean and Sam as you walked past them on your way through the library.

“Everything okay?” Sam asked.

You paused long enough to smile at them both. “Just need a little air and a drive to clear my head. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Want me to come with you?” Dean asked, frowning.

“Thanks,” you said to him. “I think I just need some time alone. I won’t be long.”

You watched the silent communication between the brothers as they exchanged glances, but you didn’t stick around long enough to give them a chance at rebuttal. You had a destination in mind as you climbed in the cab of the truck your brother had once owned.

_Your brother who had passed away trying to kill a Rugaru_ , you reminded yourself.

The memory of his death collided with the more recent Djinn-induced memory of having dinner with him at Mom and Dad’s house. Of his sweet wife and his two adorable children that you loved so much it could make your heart swell and burst. The memories ebbed and flowed, fighting for purchase at the forefront of your mind, despite the fact that you were gripping the steering wheel of a truck you’d inherited by default when he’d died.

It wasn’t that you didn’t recall every little detail of the hunt, how your brother had been engulfed in flames as he’d taken the Rugaru down with him in an effort to protect you. The memory was as vivid and fresh today as it had been the night it had happened. But so were the false memories of spending time with him and his adorable little non-existent family.

You drove down the highway. A drive that was also familiar in strange ways. It wasn’t until you reached the hospital parking lot that you wondered if you were really losing your mind. The building looked familiar enough, you guessed. You parked the truck and found yourself walking across the lot to the emergency entrance of Smith County Memorial.

You’d been antsy for days, fighting the feeling that you were missing your shift, half-expecting the Chief to call and demand answers, your co-workers to reach out to see if you were okay. It was unsettling not going into the hospital every day. You were used to working. Used to the long nights and the swing shifts.

You weren’t sure if you hoped to feel at home or to have a solid confirmation that you didn’t actually belong as you approached the hospital entry.

As you moved through the doors the scent reached your nostrils immediately. It smelled like any other hospital, which was actually calm and familiar in only ways a medical professional can appreciate. 

You expected to sense something as you walked the short distance to the emergency waiting room. A doctor and a nurse passed you in the hall and gave you no more than casual glances. They were strangers.

The world the Djinn had conjured up had you working in this very hospital. But even the layout of the hallways were wrong.

In this world - the _real_  world - you’d given up your professional career as a doctor when you’d moved into the bunker, making the most of your doctor skills by patching up Dean and Sam, and the occasional victim of whatever monster the three of you were trying to abolish together.

It was a revelation that had hit you several times since you’d woken up, but it still hadn’t sunk in yet. Not completely.

The job at the local hospital here in Kansas was only part of the Djinn dream. None of that had been real.

_It had seemed so real…._

You made it as far as the waiting room before you knew right down to your core that you didn’t belong here. It didn’t feel like home. You hadn’t spent time here. Ever. You couldn’t picture Dean and Sam stopping in on their way home from a hunt to say hi or to get patched up. That meant the Djinn hadn’t even gotten the basics right. And why would they have? You hadn’t really spent time here in the real world.

You found yourself doing a one-eighty and marching right back out to your truck. It wasn’t even about the hospital. Not really. The hospital and your job there merely represented a world where your family was still alive and well. Feeling so isolated and alone in the place you were supposed to believe you’d worked for years just added to the incredible sense of loss that weighed down your heart.

You were ten minutes into the drive back when tears blurred your vision and your breath hitched, prompting you to pull off onto the shoulder of the road. You opened the door of the truck and stepped out, taking a few steps before your knees buckled and you wound up kneeling in the dirt.

Your chest hurt, but not in a sharp, acute, medically alarming sort of way. This was more a pang of loss, of heartache, of crushing upheaval. You found yourself dialing Dean’s number without really thinking, hearing his voice come on the line after just two rings.

“Hey there, Doc,” he said, his habitual greeting warming your heart a bit.

“D - Dean?”

“What’s wrong? Where are you?” His deep voice went from casual to concerned in the space of a single heartbeat.

“I’m … I’m on my way back. I’m okay. I just really needed to hear your voice. That’s all.” You wondered if he could tell you were still trying to shut off the waterworks.

“I’ll come to you,” he insisted. “Tell me where you are.”

“No, really. I’ll be fine. Better now that you’re on the line.”

You heard his intake of breath and deep sigh through the phone. “Please … just let me come to you. I don’t mind.”

“No, really. I … I just had a moment there where this entire thing overwhelmed me.” You took a deep breath and wiped away what you hoped were the last of the tears. “I just needed to hear your voice.”

“Listen to me,” he said. “Because I feel like you need a reminder…. You are a badass. You are brilliant, and sexy, and deadly as sin. And sweetheart, I will do whatever it takes, for as long as it takes until you believe it again yourself.”

“Thank you. I guess I needed to hear it.” You gathered yourself up off the ground and climbed back into the truck, turning the key in the ignition. “I’m on my way again. I’ll be home soon.”

“I’m right here waiting.”

You hung up the phone and put the truck in gear, driving toward home. Toward  _him_.

When you finally parked in the bunker’s garage and cut the engine, you’d barely taken a breath as the driver’s side door was pulled open. Dean stood there, intense green eyes moving over you, inspecting you.

“Hey,” he said. “You good?”

You turned and slid off the seat, feeling his hands come to your waist reflexively. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him close, breathing in the scent of him. Dean let out an audible sigh, his arms tightening around you.

“I was worried,” he said softly after a moment. “Where’d you go?”

“Doesn’t matter. Might as well have been another universe,” you said in an exaggerated tone.

Dean’s eyes narrowed as he pulled back far enough to study your face. “It matters to me,” he said simply. “I know you’re going through some tough shit, but please don’t do it alone. You know that you have Sam, and you have me. You got that? You’ll always have me.”

Dean was right. In an effort to spare his feelings you’d just been pushing him away. And that made no sense. Nothing good would come of it.

You nodded, holding out your hand toward him. “We should talk.”

Dean suddenly looked as if he’d rather do almost anything else, but he forced himself to nod and let you lead him inside the bunker.


	20. Chapter 20

It was silent as you and Dean navigated the halls of the bunker toward your bedroom. You clicked the door shut and turned to face Dean. “I owe you an explanation about everything that’s going on with me.”

Dean shook his head, a frown tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s okay. We - you don’t have to-”

“Yeah, I do,” you pressed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. You patted the spot next to you, but he shook his head, apparently determined to stand. You got back on your feet, wanting to meet him halfway as you sighed and sent up a silent prayer to whoever might be listening that you’d find the words you needed. “I just … I have this whole other life in my head,” you began.

“I know that.” He looked like the very words pained him.

You frowned at him, watching as he hung his head. God, you were already screwing this up and you’d only started. “I’m working to sort it out, I really am. But sometimes it’s hard to know where you and I left off and the dream versions of us began…. I just … I need you to be patient with me.”

“Dream versions of _us_?” Dean wasn’t even sure he’d heard you right, but he couldn’t keep the strain of hope from his voice.

“Well, yeah. Some of it is obvious, but some of it gets a little complicated.”

Dean’s eyes fell closed, his chest heaving with a breath. You didn’t understand the instant shift in his demeanor until the next question fell from his lips. “Wait, are you saying in your dream … you and I were … ”

“ _Together_?” you finished for him.

The unmistakable pain in his eyes before he blinked and looked away was almost enough to steal your breath.

_God, he didn’t know._

How had you not realized? No wonder he’d been acting so lost. He’d been torturing himself about the endless possibilities of your Djinn dream life, as only Dean could do.

“Dean, I’m so far gone in love with you that I can’t imagine anything else,” you told him. “Even under the influence of poison.”

A hurricane of emotions played out on his handsome face, though he looked like he desperately wanted to believe you. And you knew he did, on some level, but several long days of doubt had warped what he knew to be true.

He swallowed hard, his gaze landing on something across the room. “I have no delusions about this life with me resembling anything close to perfect.”

You leaned in, cupping his cheek with your hand. “What you and I have is everything. This life with you and Sam, here at the bunker, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

He took a deep breath and turned into your palm, pressing his lips there, eyes falling closed as he enjoyed the warmth radiating from your touch. “If I - if I was different in the dream,” he said slowly. “If I was a better man, or-”

“Dean,” you interrupted, your voice cracking with emotion. “Honey, you were still you. You are an amazing, loyal, brave, generous man. You and I … we were still us. Honestly, that’s why things get a little fuzzy. Parts of it seemed so real, because you and I together like this just feels so right - so normal. What I’m trying to say is you’re stuck with me, Winchester … Djinn dream or not.”

Dean opened his eyes again to meet yours and you saw moisture in them, magnifying the relief there. “I - I honestly didn’t know.”

“I’m so sorry,” you breathed. “It never occurred to me you might think otherwise. I never would have let you go on believing if I’d realized-”

You were cut off by the feel of Dean’s lips on yours, his hand gently cradling the back of your head. The kiss was slow and warm and tender, and filled with healing. It was the first kiss you’d shared since waking from the Djinn dream, and it grounded you in ways nothing else had.

 The kiss solidified truths you already knew - things you’d never forgotten. This man loved you with every fiber of his being. You knew he’d die for you in an instant, knew he put you above everything else. And you felt exactly the same about him. Most people never get that lucky, but you … you had the world.

Whatever details might be foggy post-Djinn poison, these things remained. These things were all that mattered.

When you pulled back to catch your breath, Dean’s arms came around you, pulling you tight to his chest. You wrapped your arms around his middle, inhaling his scent. “I’m sorry,” you breathed. “I should have told you all of this sooner.”

Dean did a little one-shouldered shrug. “Yeah, well, I could have asked.”

“You were trying to give me space, which I appreciate. It’s been a lot to process, but not because I don’t love you with every beat of my heart. I need you to know that.” You tilted your head to look up at him. “I love you, Winchester. I always have. I always will.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” Dean smiled then, and it was warm, and genuine, and you’d just missed that beautiful smile of his so goddamn much you could hardly stand it. You hugged him again, breathing easier for the first time in what felt like forever. “Anything else you want to tell me about what happened in your dream world?” he asked.

You pulled back far enough to look at him before giving voice to a large part of what you’d been feeling since waking up to the real world. “Yeah. My, uh, my family was alive…. My brother had a wife and two kids.” Dean’s eyes narrowed as the full weight of your words sunk in. “It’s crazy because these false memories I have of my family are more recent than any real ones, which makes them seem so vivid in comparison.”

Dean was silent, letting you say what you needed him to hear as he gripped both of your hands in his tenderly. You appreciated the little gesture of support as you tried to find the words to explain the alternate reality you’d endured.

“You and I met when you saved me from a Rakshasa. I’m sure the Djinn pulled that one from my memory of the time you and Sam told my brother how to kill one over the phone.”

Dean gave a little nod, as if to say that your conclusion seemed reasonable.

“My family didn’t know anything about the monsters you and Sam hunt, and we thought that might be best, you know, to avoid dragging them into this world. So, when you and I … ” You paused, only wanting to share information with Dean that wouldn’t hurt him, which meant no talk about the marriage that wasn’t. “When I moved into the bunker I took a job at Smith County Memorial Hospital, but we couldn’t really have family here to visit for obvious reasons.”

“I get that,” Dean said softly, glancing around the windowless room. “This place isn’t exactly white picket fences and HOA dues.”

“My family believed you and Sam were government agents. We did go out to see them as often as possible, but I could tell it bothered my brother. He knew there were big things we weren’t telling him. He didn’t like you much because of it. That sort of put a strain on everything.”

“That must have been hard for you,” Dean said softly. “Having them in your life, but not in the way you wanted.”

“It was,” you admitted. “But not nearly as hard as waking up to find out I’d lost them all over again.”

Dean gently put his hands on either side of your face, green eyes staring intently into yours. “Damnit sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’ve been so caught up trying to decide where you and I stood through all this, I didn’t realize.”

And something about having him understand exactly what had been so wrong these past few days had your eyes welling up with tears. Dean cradled your head to his chest, his hand running over your hair in soothing motions while the tears trickled down your cheeks and soaked into his shirt.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered in your ear. “You’ve been through a hell of a lot. Just let it out, sweetheart.”

In spite of the fact that you were crying, you actually felt fifty pounds lighter after saying the words out loud. It was only a moment before you found you didn’t have any more tears left in you. “It’s just weird grieving for people when you’ve already done it once.” You pulled back far enough to wipe your eyes on your sleeve and look up at Dean. “I’ll be okay.”

“I know you will,” Dean said. “You’re tough as nails. But that doesn’t mean it won’t take some time to get your feet planted on the ground again. And that’s okay. I’m here for you. You know that. We’re in this together.” You nodded, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly. Dean lifted your chin and placed a tender, loving kiss to your lips.  “What do you need from me? What can I do to help?” he asked.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” you answered, feeling his arms come around you again.

“This I can do,” he said, pulling you close. “God knows I’ve missed holding you like this.”

You turned your head long enough to plant a kiss on the center of his chest, hand falling naturally into place over Dean’s heart as his chin came to rest on your head. You sat there for a long moment, wrapped in his embrace, his heart thudding out a familiar cadence that sounded like home.

And then you remembered the strange sensation of feeling two heartbeats in his chest in the Djinn dream.

“There was a moment in the dream,” you said slowly as the memory came flooding back. “I had my hand over your heart just like this - like we always do …”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, encouraging you to continue.

“It was the weirdest thing. I could have sworn I felt two hearts beating in your chest.”

“Hmmm…. Sounds like fake-me was lucky to have a doctor around,” Dean said lightly. “I don’t imagine having two hearts would be a good thing. I can barely control the one.”

You bit your bottom lip and pulled back far enough to look at him, keeping your hand in place on his chest. “Before you got the antidote in me, did you by chance do this? Hold my hand to your heart like this, I mean?”

“Sure I did,” Dean stated simply. “God, I sat like that with you for a long time, wishing your heart would match mine and pound a little.” Dean furrowed his brow and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I know it’s stupid - because I’ve been stuck in a Djinn dream before, and I know that’s not how it works - but I was desperate to have you feel me. To let you know I was here with you, fighting to get you back. I guess I was hoping it might help you fight, too.”

“It’s not stupid,” you told him. “I felt it. I felt you. I just didn’t understand.”

Dean brushed your cheek with his thumb, gazing at you adoringly. “Two heartbeats, huh?” Then, in true Dean fashion, he smirked and said, “I bet that freaked you the hell out.”

A laugh bubbled up out of you in admission. “It really did!”

You sat on the edge of the bed then and he sat next to you. “The real question is what did you do about it?”

“Pshh. What?” You feigned indignation. “Nothing. I - I didn’t … ”

Dean’s hooked eyebrow and grin were accusing. “Come on, Doc. You thought you felt two heartbeats in my chest, and you expect me to believe you did nothing?”

You smacked his shoulder playfully. “Well, fake-you may or may not have suggested I give you a check up, which I decided was probably a good idea, considering the situation. But you were only trying to get in my pants.”

Dean laughed out loud at that, wiping at his face with a hand. “Yeah, that sounds dangerously like me. Did it work?”

You felt heat rise in your cheeks. You weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like you’d cheated on Dean with Dean. And none of it had been real.

But Dean was reading between the lines. “You had sex with Bizarro-me?”

God, you’d had plenty of sex in the dream. The passage of time had felt like years, after all….

Dean’s eyebrows shot up as he realized the same. He tucked his chin to his chest, eyes narrowing and voice dropping even lower. “Well sweetheart, how was it?”

You bit your lip. “If you’re asking me to compare that’s going to be tough. I know it wasn’t real, but in my head it feels like forever since you and I actually-”

Dean gave you a cocky smile and tackled you to the bed, making you laugh as he pushed your shirt up, trailing kisses up your stomach. 

“You need a reminder?” he growled, his scruff tickling your skin in all the right ways. “That Dean-Winchester-wannabe can’t hold a candle to the real thing, sweetheart. I promise you that.”

You closed your eyes, grinning. When you spoke it was a challenge. “If you’re so confident, Winchester, prove it.”

Dean sucked a mark just below your ribcage. Then he paused long enough to pull your shirt up over your head, nipping lightly at the skin near your left shoulder.

You whimpered, your body responding to him in away that was so familiar, yet no less powerful for it. The third love bite made you wonder if he realized he was marking you up in the same spots where just days ago he’d applied EKG leads to your skin. Maybe he was subconsciously erasing the mental image of you laid up in the infirmary.

And then you quit thinking about anything except for the way his fingers were dragging your jeans and panties over your hips. How his hands were working you out of your bra, his mouth catching your nipple, sucking, nibbling. Like he was starved.

He rubbed your other nipple between his thumb and finger, pulling on it every few seconds and making you arch your back a little. The heat from his mouth traveled right through to your core, drawing tingling wetness and a desperate need for friction. For fullness.

“Dean,” you breathed.

He released your nipple with a satisfying pop, eyes meeting yours. “Yeah?”

“Either move that mouth of yours south or put those expert fingers to use.”

Dean covered your mouth with his, his tongue brushing along yours hungrily. When his lips left yours you gazed up into those green eyes that held the world. “Damnit, sweetheart. I missed you.”

Before you could return the sentiment he slid a finger between your folds, stealing your breath. He seemed surprised at the amount of slick there, moaning like he couldn’t stop the sound escaping as he moved down to settle himself between your legs.

You held your breath, anticipating, but Dean was the master of self control. He kissed your thighs, then carefully coated a finger in your slick and slowly, torturously slipped it inside you. Your exhale was more of a whimper at the feeling of having part of him in you, and at the lack of it being enough to satisfy you, all at once.

Dean skillfully stretched you, putting pressure on your walls at every angle. As he worked, you felt his lips caressing you in every place but the one you so desperately needed.

But you weren’t going to ask him. Not again. If this glorious torture was how Dean wanted to remind you just how well he knew your body here in the real world, who were you to argue?

Dean finally circled your clit with his tongue before flicking across it. Your hips bucked and he gripped your waist, holding you down. Then he made a rapid flicking motion, causing all the blood to rush from your head, leaving you feeling light and hot and tense in the most wonderful way.

He slid a second finger inside you which felt fuller, tighter, but wouldn’t satisfy you for long. He began pumping in and out then, slow and steady. His tongue had softened on your clit, caressing, lapping, teasing. Your breath was coming fast and shallow, but the occasional gentle scrape along your clit with the edge of his teeth made you gasp and drag down a gulp of air.

He pumped a little faster, fingers grazing that sweet spot at the top that made you practically vibrate with anticipated pleasure.

“Got your wish,” you managed breathlessly before another graze of his teeth at your clit stole your voice for a second. “My heart is pounding.”

Dean let out a satisfied growl at your declaration, the vibrations of it rumbling through all your sensitive parts. Then he swirled that tongue in small circles, lighting up nerves and curling your toes.

He had you on the edge, completely at his mercy, and then his mouth left you, drawing a gasp from you in protest.

“Proof enough, sweetheart?”

You glanced down at him, at that cocky grin playing at the corner of his mouth, and you nodded, unable to form words. You huffed, teetering on a precipice that was almost too much to bare. You were so damn close you could taste it.

Your chest heaved with a breath as his lips wrapped around your clit, suckling as he hummed softly. Sparks filled your vision and your hips bucked of their own volition as all of the pent up tension and energy burst, bringing with it a release so strong your entire body quaked. Your hips rocked as the ripples of pleasure moved upward and outward, racing to your fingertips and your toes, making your chest flush red.

Dean was gently lapping at you with his tongue, fingers slowly enticing more wetness from you, drawing the pleasure out longer than you would have believed possible. Your legs were trembling, thighs shaking with the sheer force of the muscle contractions you’d just endured. You were still contracting around his fingers as he glided them around inside you.

Dean was relentless as you tried to catch your breath. Twisting. Curling. Fingers sliding in and out. In and out.

With your breathing. In and out. In and out….

He was timing it so perfectly it had to be on purpose. You took a deep breath and held it, waiting as his movements stilled.

“Dean!” you breathed in exhale. “You’re killing me here.”

“Never,” he said with a chuckle that was more like a rumble deep in his chest. “And I’m not done with you yet.”

You whimpered at the prospect, your hand coming up to knead your breast. Dean followed suit and snaked an arm up to do the same for the other side, all the while his fingers pumping in and out of you.

In and out. In and out….

You were a hot mess. You didn’t even try to think past it. Eyes falling closed, you let the sensations between your legs build, evidenced by the occasional feeling off your own slick dripping down.

Dean was relentless in his movements, but unhurried. Steady as a heartbeat. In and out.

Things began to feel tighter, despite his stretching you open. You threw your head back, a moan tearing from your throat when he stopped pumping and curled those fingers with intent up against that spongey spot that made your head swim again.

“D-Dean,” you uttered. “S’not fair.”

“What isn’t fair, sweetheart?”

“You’re … still dressed. And I need you buried inside me…. Now.”

He slowly pulled his fingers from you, and you whimpered at the disconnect. But he slid them gently through your folds, brushing along your overly sensitive clit and making you squirm. Then he was tugging his shirt over his head and pushing his pants down, boxers going with them.

He hovered over you, his wanton mouth coming over yours. You kissed him deeply, your tongue gliding along those plump lips that had just dragged you through depths of pleasure.

Then you spread your legs wide, wrapping your feet around his back, ankles locking. He was lined up at your center now. You could feel him at your throbbing entrance. You angled your hips and wiggled up and down far enough to coat him in your juices. He shuddered without breaking the kiss.

Then, without warning, he dragged your bottom lip with his teeth, sucking gently as he pressed into you, filling you up completely. He released your lip, moaning in a way only Dean Winchester can. He sucked in a shallow breath, gazing into your eyes. “I almost lost you,” he said softly.

You put a hand on either side of his face and stared right back into the green eyes you’d happily drown in. “Never.”

He rocked his hips then, sliding almost completely out before thrusting again. You weren’t sure which direction felt better … dragging out or pushing in. Different sensations all around. All of them good. And heat-filled. And leaving a buzzing electricity along the surface of your skin.

You ran your fingers along the lines of Dean’s chest, torn between giving all of your attention to studying all the lines of his body, and the overwhelming, swelling heat that was rapidly melting your core. Dean bent down to suck a mark into your throat in response, his pace unwavering. It was just enough to shift the angle, bringing a new texture to the friction with every plunge.

It was perfect. He was perfect.

And he was driving you closer and closer with every snap of his hips until you thought the build-up might choke you.

Another surge had you tumbling over the edge for a second time, and you found yourself biting his shoulder, clinging desperately to him as you moaned, but it only seemed to encourage him to pick up the pace. He moved lower now, close enough that you could arch your back a little and let his chest drag across yours with each thrust.

You circled your arms around him, gripping, squeezing at the strong muscles of his back. Dean shuddered and a moan escaped his parted lips. You gripped him harder, feeling his muscles convulse as his release overpowered him. There was no space between you as he relaxed on top of you, letting most but not all of his weight blissfully trap you there. You were quite sure you’d be content to lay there forever, unable to distinguish between his heartbeat and yours, both hammering out excited rhythms against your chest wall.

In that moment, it was hard to imagine anything in the Djinn dream had ever felt this vivid. This earth-shattering. This goddamn real.


	21. Chapter 21

 

When you wandered into the library in the morning Dean was sitting with his laptop. You squeezed his shoulders in greeting, leaning over to see the classic car parts website on his browser. You sat next to him just as Sam walked in with two cups of coffee.

“Sleep good?” Sam asked, greeting you with a smile as he set one cup down for Dean and the other in front of you.

“I slept great,” you answered. “But I can go get my own cup-”

“Don’t worry about it. Sit. Enjoy,” Sam said. “I made plenty. I’ll go pour myself another cup.”

You gave him a grateful smile and lifted the mug to take a sip as Sam left.

“You seemed to sleep well,” Dean said to you, reaching over to squeeze your knee. “I was glad to see that.”

“I feel rested for the first time in what feels like forever.” Spending the night in Dean’s arms after he made love to you had been like a soft reset for your body, heart and soul. It was just what you’d needed. “Finding what you need to fix Baby?” you asked.

Dean nodded. “Parts are on their way. I’ll have her up and running, good as new in no time.”

“Yeah, you’re good at that,” you told him, knowing he’d catch the double meaning in your words.

He smiled and leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a warm kiss. “Gotta take care of my girls like they take care of me.”

Sam walked back in just then, smiling in pleasant surprise when he saw you and Dean snuggled up close together at the table, Dean whispering in your ear.

“We had a good talk last night,” you offered for Sam’s benefit when you saw his expression. 

Sam sat at the table with his coffee, raising a hand as if to gesture that he needed no explanation. 

“I’m doing better,” you added. “I really am. I feel more like myself today, even if I have to keep reminding myself I’m not late for my shift at the hospital.”

Sam sipped from his mug and leaned back in his chair, watching you. “You, uh, you mentioned being at work when you woke up from the Djinn dream. Do you miss it? Practicing medicine, I mean?”

You smirked at him. “Are you kidding me? I have my own infirmary, and there are these two lanky hunters who have a nasty habit of getting hurt on the job. They keep my skills plenty sharp.”

Dean smiled at his brother. “She’s not wrong.”

“Speaking of the dream, I should probably clear the air a little,” you told Sam. “The bunker was still my home in the Djinn dream. Dean and I were still together, but instead of hunting I worked at Smith County in the emergency department.”

Sam leaned forward, giving you his full attention.

“It’s kind of weird thinking about it now,” you said. “The idea of going off to work, and you two hunting without me. Don’t get any ideas, by the way. I’m already itching to kill something.”

“That’s my girl,” Dean said proudly. 

“Spoken like a true hunter,” Sam agreed. “What else?” he asked, looking like he almost regretted it when the words left his mouth. Like he was afraid he’d overstepped.

You chewed your lip and glanced around the library. “Well, there was an angel that stayed here with us,” you said wistfully.

“Say what?” Sam asked, certain he’d heard you wrong. 

Even Dean had paused with his coffee mug several inches from his mouth.

“An angel. In the dream,” you clarified.

Dean looked thoroughly taken aback. “An  _angel? Here?_   _In the bunker?_ ” You nodded for him, subconsciously glancing in the direction of Cas’s room. Dean was looking at you in concern now. “You know angels are dicks, right?”

“Not this one,” you turned to meet Dean’s gaze. “He was our friend. His name is -  _was_  - Castiel. We called him Cas. He’s the one who …” You paused, catching yourself from admitting that the angel had married the two of you in your parents’ backyard. “He was important to us.” You included Sam with a glance. “To all of us. He was like a brother. God, I was so outnumbered when the three of you were around.”

Sam’s expression was pure amusement, just as likely due to Dean’s stunned silence as much as anything.

“And don’t even get me started on what it was like when  _Bizarro_ -Sam and Dean stopped by the hospital to check in before or after a case.”

“Oh yeah?” Sam prompted, his smile encouraging you to give details.

“The pair of you would have every nurse on the floor flustered and swooning.”

“Now  _that_  I can believe,” Dean said.

“I think most of them secretly hoped you’d show up needing stitches or something that would at least keep you around long enough to ogle at.”

“Let me guess,” Dean began. “Even  _Bizarro_ -Sam didn’t take advantage of that situation and hook up with a hot nurse.”

Sam gave Dean his best bitch-face, sighing.

“Oh I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” you said, winking at Sam. “He was just a gentleman and didn’t kiss and tell.”

Sam smiled smugly, sipping from his mug.

“My family was alive,” you added slowly, “but they lived back in my hometown. They couldn’t really visit because they believed you two were FBI agents and were completely clueless about all the monsters in the world. I was telling Dean last night that keeping secrets like that definitely put a strain on my relationship with my family, but it had to be that way.”

Sam gave you an understanding smile. Dean reached over to grip your hand with his, intertwining your fingers.

“I actually dreamed about Bobby, too,” you said slowly, changing the topic.

“Bobby Singer?” Dean asked, reminding you just how little he actually knew about what you’d seen in the dream. You’d assured him of your love for him last night by confirming that your relationship stood the test of a poison-induced hallucinogenic dream, but he knew very little about the details.

“Yep.  _The_  Bobby. Maybe because I’ve heard so many stories about him, about how close you were. And I’ve seen all of the pictures of him with you guys and I sort of feel like I know him. But there were others, too. A woman named Jody. She was a hunter. She and Bobby were together. They’d sort of adopted two girls. Alex and Claire. They all came here to spend the holidays with us and everything.”

“Kind of a nice thought,” Sam mused.

“Bobby put up with a lot from us idjits,” Dean said with a soft smile. “God, I miss that grumpy-ass man.”

“Yeah,” Sam said fondly. “So do I.”

You sat in comfortable silence for a moment, sipping what was left of your coffee. “You know, the dream helped me realize something,” you said.

Dean and Sam both looked to you, waiting patiently.

“When I first left my job and came to live here with you guys at the bunker, I believed this was something I was doing for my brother. I thought by hunting and taking out the creatures that hurt people, I’d be honoring his memory and carrying on my family’s legacy. And now, after having a little distance from the false world the Djinn dropped me into - one where he was still alive but I wasn’t hunting - I can see that’s not exactly right.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“Choosing this life,” you began. “I didn’t do it for my brother. His death may have been the driving force behind the timing of my decision, but I’m doing this for me. I honor him, and my parents, by doing what makes me happy. I’m just as passionate about hunting as I ever was about medicine. And I obviously love a good challenge,” you added, giving Dean a light nudge in the ribs with your elbow and seeing a smile tug at his lips.

“I’m doing what I love, with people I love more than anything, and if that’s not me living my best life, I don’t know what is.”

Dean leaned in, kissing your temple and clearing his throat like his emotions might be getting the best of him. You looked up at him, gently took his chin in your hand, and kissed his cheek.

“I haven’t had the misfortune of experiencing a Djinn dream,” Sam began, knocking his fist on the tabletop twice. “But if you can come out on the other side of one with that kind of perspective and clarity, even while the dream world is so fresh, I’d count that as a huge victory.” His eyes crinkled a little as he gazed at you.

Dean had found his voice again, saying, “We’re both just so goddamn proud of you, sweetheart.”

Your smile was so big you thought your face might split in two, but in that moment everything was right in the world. You were right where you belonged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is only one more chapter left in Act 4. Act 4 is not the final act in the saga. It will be followed shortly by Act 4.5 (a.k.a. the Act 4 Epilogue.)


	22. Chapter 22

“Hey Spider Monkey,” Sam called out as you were walking down the hall toward the bedroom you shared with Dean.

You turned on your heel and called back, “Yeah?”

“Can you come here for a few minutes?”

You headed back toward the library, toward the sound of Sam’s voice. As you climbed the couple of stairs up into the space, you couldn’t help but notice he and Dean looked quite comfortable as they sat at one of the tables. Instead of the usual assortment of old books that could normally be found on the table before them, the laptop was set up before Sam and a bowl of popcorn and a little assortment of snacks and treats were set out. There were also three beer bottles, straight from the fridge, if the beads of condensation on the glass were any indication.

“What’s going on in here, guys?” you asked as you approached.

“Have a seat,” Dean said, reaching over to pull out the chair next to his.

You gave him a curious smile as you sat, noticing for the first time that they’d pulled down the projector screen across the way. The little digital projector was sat up on a shelf, pointing toward the screen, a cord running along the floor connecting it to the laptop. You looked up to Sam, hoping to get more of an answer. “Are we doing movie night?”

“Something like that,” Sam answered, a wry grin on his face.

Dean twisted the cap off a beer and offered it to you. You accepted it, wondering exactly what they were up to as Dean opened one for himself. He gave you a half smile and winked. “Just a little trip down memory lane, sweetheart.”

He took a sip from his bottle as Sam made some adjustments on the laptop. A few seconds later an image appeared on the projection screen that made your throat constrict with emotion.

It was the hospital you’d worked at, but not the illusion of a job at Smith County the Djinn had so recently imposed in your brain. This was the hospital you’d worked at in the real world. The hospital where you’d first met the guys when Sam had driven Dean to your E.R. when a Kitsune had knocked Dean unconscious, breaking his clavicle and giving him a concussion.

“This,” Dean began, “is where we had our first date.”

You laughed, remembering how he’d counted your physical exam and bringing pizza to his hospital room as an actual date.

“If only I’d known breaking a bone and winding up in the hospital would be the best thing that ever happened to me,” Dean said fondly, smiling at you.

“If only I’d known the concussed, stubborn yet charming hunter that challenged me at every turn would turn out to be the love of my life,” you added, reaching over to grip his hand.

“If you’re both finished writing bad Hallmark cards we can continue,” Sam teased.

“By all means,” you said, laughing softly.

“Ah, remember this?” Dean began as the image changed, “This is all about the first night you asked me to stay over.” He waggled his eyebrows at you.

You smiled and shook your head, seeing a picture of your old house. You’d invited Sam and Dean to crash at your place after Dean was released from the hospital, ensuring they got a home-cooked meal and a good night’s sleep before they went on their way.

“Of course,” you answered. “I remember sitting around the table and sharing stories over dinner.”

“You made lasagna with garlic bread,” Dean said, and you thought you heard his stomach growl at just the mention of it.

“You guys told my brother how to take down that Rakshasha,” you added. “You fell asleep on the couch right after dinner,” you said to Sam before you turned your gaze back on Dean. “And you and I stayed up talking until your pain pills kicked in.”

Again the image changed, revealing a picture of the tackle-box med kit you’d made for them before they’d left town.

“That kit helped us patch each other up for the next year,” Sam added. “Not to mention that it was so much easier to restock and keep organized.”

“Next stop on memory lane,” Dean announced, pulling out his wallet and retrieving what looked like a receipt, offering it to you.

You accepted it from him, inspecting it closer. You scanned the date and then read further down to see the purchase was for two Slurpees at a 7-11.

“Oh my god…. You kept this?” You couldn’t keep the shock from your voice as you looked up at Dean.

He gave a little one-shouldered shrug. “I was cleaning out my wallet like a month later, and I just couldn’t bring myself to toss it.”

You could almost hear the implied, ‘It was a hard day, full of loss and heartache, and this little slip of paper represented a happy few moments in the middle of all of that.’

“Somehow it just never felt right to toss it after that, partly because I wasn’t sure if I’d ever really see you again.”

You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his scruffy cheek, handing the receipt back to him. You didn’t miss the way he carefully tucked it back into his leather wallet.

Sam changed the image again, revealing a collage of photos on the projector screen. They were all images of Dean talking on his phone, and in most of the photos he was wearing a grin or a full-on smile.

“Wait, what’s this?” Dean asked, sounding genuinely surprised.

“Oh, I added these,” Sam said, turning a shit-eating grin on his brother. He gestured toward the screen and looked at you before saying, “Dean, during his weekly Sunday phone calls to you.”

“I didn’t know you took these,” Dean mused, too entertained to be annoyed with Sam’s addition to the slideshow.

Sam shrugged. “I was saving them for blackmail one day, but this seemed a worthier cause.”

You grinned at Sam and gazed at the pictures again, noting the happy gleam in Dean’s eyes in every photo as he’d carried on the traditional Sunday afternoon phone call after your brother’s untimely death.

The slideshow continued with Dean producing occasional mementos of your time together. The EKG strip of his heartbeat from the day he’d come clean about his feelings for you. The paper target of your win from the game of “Never Have I Ever” the three of you had played in the bunker’s shooting range.

“You let me win that day,” you said, pointing an accusing finger at Dean as the memory played out in your mind’s eye.

Dean grinned sheepishly as Sam turned to him in mild surprise. “Really?”

“Love makes a man do weird shit,” Dean said, holding up his hands in a gesture of innocence. “First and last time I ever let her win. Learned my lesson.”

You smiled at the way Sam cocked his head to the side in amusement.

Other items included things like your first fake FBI badge from the first official case you’d worked with the boys that had led to your roasting a Lamia that was a little too interested in Dean’s heart.

Sam even had a photo of the laceration on your side you’d earned while fighting off a Ghoul in Oregon.

“Oh god,” you said, bringing up a hand to cover your eyes. “Do we really have to go there?”

“Go where?” Sam teased. “Oh, wait, you mean the time you pretended not to be injured in an attempt to avoid letting one of us stitch you up?”

“And as I recall,” Dean added. “You even gave me shit about not liking needles during my hospital stay for my collarbone.”

You laughed. “Have you considered that I might have been more worried about your ability to handle the needle than the actual needle itself? In my defense, your surgical skills are questionable, at best.”

“Hey, I rocked those stitches,” Sam insisted, guffawing and pointing at the picture.

“Meh, I’d have done better,” Dean argued.

“Oh, is that so?” Sam asked, feigning insult. “What stopped you?”

“I was a little distracted trying to make sure she kept breathing and didn’t pass out on us,” Dean said, speaking directly to you now. “You know,  just in case we needed that brilliant brain of yours to stay conscious if things went south,” he added, biting back a smile.

“It’s totally different sewing someone else up,” you said, trying not to smile as you crossed your arms over your chest. “But to be fair, the scar is barely noticeable. I’m sorry I ever doubted your suture skills, Brawny.”

You stood up and lifted your shirt high enough to reveal the inconspicuous thin white line of scar tissue that wrapped around the bottom of your rib cage.  Sam beamed at you, and you weren’t sure whether your use of the nickname you’d given him or your praise of his doctoring skills were mostly responsible for the big grin on his face.

“Hell yes, I rocked those stitches,” Sam added victoriously as you sat back down.

Dean clicked his tongue at you. “The doctor who doesn’t like needles….”

“Hey, I’m not a total pansy,” you said, your chin jutting out in defiance. “I happen to remember both of you being completely down and out with that bout of food poisoning we all got in Virginia this summer and I gave myself an IV, thank you very much.”

“Just when I’d managed to block that out,” Sam said slowly. “Thanks for bringing it back up.”

“You’re welcome,” you said, completely ignoring his sarcasm.

“God, that was bad,” Dean said with a soft chuckle.

“Bad? Seriously, Winchester? That diner food made you two so sick by the time I got you back here you were dehydrated, feverish and nearly delirious. I was just grateful I managed to talk you both into heading straight for the infirmary. Once your heads hit the pillows in the sick beds you were pretty useless. And that was before you threw up all over me,” you added, raising an eyebrow at Dean. “Bad doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

“There’s a whole twenty-four hour period in there that I don’t even remember,” Sam agreed.

“I had small bouts of consciousness that first night,” Dean recalled. “I don’t remember you sticking a needle in my arm, but I did come to long enough to feel like a total ass for puking my guts up all over you while you tried to take care of me. I’d pretty much decided if the food poisoning didn’t kill me, I might just die of embarrassment.”

You laughed a little and reached over to squeeze his hand. “Honestly I’ve had worse. Can’t work in an E.R. and not get vomited on occasionally.”

“You scared me that next day though,” Dean added, voice softer now as he gazed at you. “By the time my fever broke you’d run yourself so ragged taking care of the two of us that you blacked out right in the middle of talking to me. Then it was your turn in a sick bed.”

“I still don’t know how you did that,” Sam said, grinning and shaking his head. “You must have been dragging your own IV stand back and forth across the infirmary while you doctored us.”

“That’s exactly what I did,” you said with a smile. “I’d do it again tomorrow if I had to. Besides, I think you two got the brunt of the food poisoning. I only ate half my burger, remember?”

“Still….” Dean said. “Giving yourself an IV was pretty badass.”

“Badass enough to make up for the stitches incident?” you pressed.

“I believe so,” Dean conceded, looping an arm around your shoulders so he could pull you close enough to kiss the top of your head.

The photos and the memories continued as the three of you reminisced about the last year you’d spent hunting together, laughing, and sometimes crying together.

“How was that for a little trip down memory lane?” Dean asked.

“It was amazing,” you answered with a genuine smile. “Thank you. Both of you. It’s just what I needed.”

Although the Djinn dream memories were still vivid and fresh, talking with Dean and Sam in detail about what you’d actually been doing over the course of the last year did help bring some much needed perspective.

You knew who you were. You’d always known, deep down.

Dean stood up then and offered you a hand up. 

You let Dean pull you to your feet, pleasantly surprised when he planted himself right in front of you, his hand still gripping yours. He pulled your hand to his heart, and you couldn’t help but notice it was thumping away like a jackhammer against your palm.

“This. This is what’s real,” Dean told you. “This right here. What you do to me. What you’ve always done to me….” Dean cleared his throat then, and you met his green eyes, letting the intensity of his gaze swallow you up. “Do you know why I love you?”

You smiled at him. “Because I never get jealous of how much time you spend with the real love of your life in the garage?”

“Well, that there’s that too,” he agreed, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But I also love that you call me ‘big guy,’ despite the fact that my brother is a freaking giant.”

A soft laugh escaped your lips then, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his, not even long enough to glance at Sam for his reaction.

“I love that you’re so brilliant without ever talking down to anyone,” Dean continued. “I love how selfless you are, and even though you’re constantly taking care of everyone else, you’ll still let me take care of you.”

Your cheeks flushed in the wake of his confession, and you found yourself staring at your hand on his chest.

But Dean wasn’t finished. “I love the man I am when we’re together,” he continued, drawing your gaze back to his intense green eyes. “And the way you make me feel like even the broken parts of me are okay.”

And that little crack in his voice at the end there was enough to have you swallowing back the ball of emotion suddenly lodged in your throat.

Dean pressed your hand tighter to his heart then, swallowing hard. “Sweetheart,” he said softly. “If this life has taught me anything, it’s that you can’t take one single day, or anybody in it, for granted.”

Dean took a small step backward, dropping down onto one knee. Your mouth fell open, eyes flitting to Sam, but he just gave a little knowing shrug and smiled, watching you both.

Your heart was racing to match Dean’s as he reached into his pocket and produced an honest-to-god little, black satin box. Your hand flew to your mouth in disbelief, and a smile tugged at the corner of Dean’s as he lifted the tiny lid to reveal a twinkling diamond ring.

“I’ve been carrying this around with me for weeks, trying to work up the nerve to do this….”

_Weeks?_ ….  _Had he just said weeks?_

You couldn’t help but notice that his fingers were trembling as he reached out, taking your hand in his again. The brilliant diamond glimmered as he carefully slid the ring onto your finger, keeping a gentle grip on your hand afterward.

“I want to spend the rest of my life trying to deserve you, if you’ll have me. What do you say, sweetheart? Will you officially become a Winchester and marry me?”

A joyful laugh bubbled up out of you and you nodded, saying, “Yes. Yes, of course I will!”

Dean rose to his feet, arms coming around you as you hugged his neck and the two of you shared a passionate yet tender kiss. He pulled you tight up against him, hearts pressed together in a way that was only fitting.

When the kiss ended, you stepped back far enough to put a hand on either side of his face, gazing into those green eyes that held your world. “I have to say, I did not see that coming, Winchester…. Well played.”

Dean smirked, cocking his head to the side a little. “I do my best.”

And then Sam was on his feet, pulling you into a giant bear hug. You laughed, hugging him back tight. When he released you he turned to his brother, ducking slightly to hug him and thump him hard on the back in that way guys do. As you watched the two of them embrace, you were overwhelmed with love and gratitude.

“Congrats, guys,” Sam said to you both when he finally released Dean.

Dean hooked an arm around your waist, pulling you close to him again. You turned into him, raising up to kiss his lips. 

Your hand fell into place on his chest and the diamond ring sparkled on your finger. He smiled down at you, and then in true Dean Winchester fashion looked Sam straight in the eye and said, “Better get busy, little brother. You have a Bachelor party to plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of Act 4, but not the end of the saga. Act 4.5 will begin posting after a short hiatus. Please leave a comment to let me know what you thought. Feedback feeds the muse.


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